


Undone Wars

by esama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, darkish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of a Runner is hell, but even hell doesn't seem so bad when you have decent company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net around 2010  
> Proofread by Darlene

Three years, Ronon thought blearily as he staggered away from the Ring on yet another alien planet. The planet was completely unfamiliar to him, almost unwelcoming with its tall, looming trees that hid the sky by creating a ceiling of branches and leaves. Or maybe that was welcoming, he thought, his knee shaking and pride and will barely keeping him standing. It was almost protective even, the forest around him. Cover meant they couldn't send ships, after all.

Still, he didn't feel welcome. It was hard to, when he knew nothing of the planet except for the six symbols that had led him there, symbols integrated to his memory years and years ago. He could remember somewhat vaguely the extra lessons back when he had still been learning, back when Kell had been his taskmaster. Nothing but addresses in those lessons, endless and endless amounts of addresses to different worlds - to allied worlds, to ruined worlds, to formerly Ancestor controlled worlds, to empty worlds, to unliveable worlds, to deserted worlds. He lost count how many addresses he learned and he couldn't remember anymore why he took those lessons in the first place - but in these last three years, those lessons had saved his life.

He coughed and weakly brushed his lips with the back of his hand. The motion left stains that he hardly even noticed.

Three years running. Three years since the fight with the Wraith - a _fight_ , because that hadn't been a _war_ , it had been a slaughter, a planet wide massacre they had fought against and lost bitterly, painfully. Three years since he had been captured and taught desperation. Three years since he had stopped walking, three years since he had started skipping sleep. Three years, two sets of boots, two different swords, fifteen new knives, two coats, eight shirts, three sets of pants before he had gotten the art of sewing right, eight broken bones, more cuts than he can remember, four concussions… fifty eight planets, forty seven of them empty, twenty two unliveable, fifteen almost lethal, two which had almost succeeded in killing him. He really should've stopped counting them.

Three years.

Ronon grunted as he fell to his knees, blood spilling from his lips and from the hole in his stomach. He stared at the ground, mossy and green and almost soft, as his blood dribbled down on it, giving it a dirty brown shade.

Three years, and now it would be over.

The mossy ground came suddenly towards him, but he managed to catch it with his elbow, only distantly realising that he had almost fallen. He laughed. It sounded odd to his ears, too deep, too choked, too breathless, a little wet and the splatter of blood from his lips took away any grace the sound might've had. Not that he had ever been a graceful man. Still, it was oddly amusing, a little relieving and beyond all it was gratifying. Three years. _Three_. Most Runners didn't survive three months.

 Though maybe they had made him a Runner in the first place. He was a challenge to them. In the three years of running, he had killed each and every Wraith that had come after him. He had never considered it much of a success, as at the end of the day he still had to keep on running, and another Wraith would come another day, but still. In the three years he had killed over fifty Wraiths.

The moss on the ground was starting to look oddly appealing. Gasping softly through the dizziness and pain, he stared at it. It was soft, a little wet but still probably more comfortable than the majority of the places he had rested in the last three years. He had slept on rocks, on cliffs, on tree branches… he had lost count, not that he had even kept one, of how many time he had fallen off of whatever place he had rested, before he had finally learned to sleep without moving an inch. Mossy ground on the other hand….

No. No, he wouldn't die here. He was only a few steps from the Ring. Too easy to find. There was still a chance that the wound wasn't as bad as it felt. Still a chance that if he slept a little, he'd recover. He hadn't slept properly in a while, and hadn't eaten much at all in two days, that would've easily made the wound feel worse than it actually was. There was still a chance he'd live. And if there was a chance of that, there was a chance the Wraith would find him alive, rather than dead.

Growling at that thought, he pushed himself up a little, just enough to get both his hands beneath him. Then, mostly on will alone, he pushed up again, faltering a little as he stood up, his knees feeling weak. Walk, he thought determinately. Walk, just a little further. Just few more steps. Don't make yourself an easy target. Don't give up. Never give up.

He took a step. And then another. It got a little easier as he got the hang of it, but with each step he could feel the draining of his strength. And though his hand was pressed against the wound in an attempt to forestall the inevitable, he knew it was coming. There were shadows flickering in the corners of his eyes and he knew how easily they could creep up on him, how quickly.

Not yet, though. Not yet. Before that, he'd need to find a place to hide. Some big tree would do, there were plenty of those around. He would hide at the roots. Just a little further, not this close to the Ring. Too easy to find, too easy to track down. Just a little further. Just one more step….

The dizziness tore through his head like a knife, almost painful. He only barely managed to catch support from a nearby tree trunk and keep himself from falling flat on his face. It only slowed down the fall, though, and soon he slid down the tree in jerky slips, stiff fingers clawing the bark. Something stung at his knees as he fell to them, maybe pebbles or something like that, rocks hidden in the moss. The wound in his stomach ached, stung and twisted as he involuntarily tilted forward, almost falling. He gasped, inhaling drops of his own blood.

He had been wounded worse, he knew he had, he could remember it. The problem was, that time he had been young, and the hospitals in Sateda had been quick to attend to the wound. He could still remember it, the sterile white walls and the distant voices of the physicians, the rattling of the wheels beneath the gurney as they rushed him from one ward to the next. Distant memories from when he had been barely thirteen, too young to know anything, young enough to still fear death. But though the broken rib had ruptured his lung, he hadn't died. He hadn't even gotten a scar.

Useless memories, but he couldn't keep them at bay, and for a moment he was so disoriented that it felt like he was there, lying on the operating table, dizzy with medicine rather than pain and blood loss. There was a physician leaning over him, wearing black….

The memory induced hallucination faded with a sting of pain, and growling with the sensation he fell, and just managing to turn himself mid-fall so that he didn't fall on the wound. The hospitals of Sateda were gone, in more ways than ones, but the image of the physician in black lingered. Except it wasn't a physician. Physicians didn't wear black

A shadow, he thought, trying to move, to move, to _move_. A shadow. Could've been another hallucination. But Wraith made shadows too, flickering shapes in bushes and places you weren't directly looking at, lingering shades and unnerving sensation of being watched. It had taken him months before he had learned to ignore them completely. Blood loss was making him think wrong, though, so it felt more real. Felt like it was really there, a black shape, too close, almost leaning over him.

And he couldn't move. The last of his strength seemed to leak to the ground, and his hand fell from where it had been clutching onto the tree in hopes of finding support. He couldn't move, his legs wouldn't respond, and his head was pounding. Worse yet, the pain in his stomach was fading. That was bad. Really bad.

The shadow leaned over him and as the darkness fell, Ronon could see green eyes, staring at him.

 

* * *

 

The smell of fire made him remember a warehouse from long ago. A big place, each day a transport had come in, bringing things, taking things away. A restock place for stuff you needed during a fight, medicine, rations, gear, extra ammo, explosives, and so forth. The warehouse had been made of stone and metal, fortified and strengthened - the sort of building made to stand even a bombardment.

Ronon had never been able to forget the smell or the feeling of disappointment as he had turned to face the warehouse, knowing that he'd find help in it, trusting it to have his back. He had some of his men wounded, they were out of ammo, they needed something to help them hold on a little longer. The warehouse had had it, it had been one of their reassurances, an ace up their sleeve - the sort of security that only a backup plan could give.

It had burned brilliantly.

He breathed in, his eyes snapping open. Sleep and memories faded, pushed aside with practiced haste to give a way to full alertness. He reached for his hip, for his gun holster, and met the reassuring feel of the handle of his pistol. His fingers, though, didn't feel so reassuring. They were stiff and his fingertips were a little numb, tingling with the loss of blood.

Though the question of how much blood he had lost and how long it would take him to get back to one hundred percent was a pressing one, he knew it wasn't the issue. The issue was the smell of fire and the ceiling above him - not that of trees and branches and leaves, but of stone. The air was warm and a little stale and smelled of smoke and something he hadn't thought he'd smell again, something which made his mouth water even as he tried to fight against it. Food. Meat roasting on an open flame.

The problem with that was the fact that it wasn't he who was cooking it.

Sitting up was painful and stupid and for the sake of his health he should've stayed down, but Ronon knew that wounds were rarely as lethal as people you didn't know. And there was someone there, he could smell it now, sense it, the presence of another living being. People could kill faster than blood loss and infected wounds ever could hope to do. Especially people who didn't know you, whom you didn't know.

Swallowing blood, he glanced around. The other person was impossible to miss, he soon found, and as he stared at the other he was overcome by the sudden mental image of a scavenger bird, looming over a fresh carcass. Then, as the other moves from the odd, crouched position into kneeling one, the impression changed to that of a predatory feline, like those that lived in the deserts of Sateda. The long messy hair and mass of dirty fur around the other's upper body gave an odd impression of a black mane.

The person leaned forward and took something from the rocks surrounding the fire. A strip of meat, a little burned from the side, about as long as Ronon's arm. With it in hand, the person turned a little, the angle of his head revealing his gender - women rarely had beards.

"Food," the man said, shifting on knees and one hand and holding the strip of meat towards Ronon. His voice was rough like a snarl, and oddly familiar to Ronon.  "Eat."

Ronon hesitated for a moment, before reaching and taking the strip of meat. There was next to nothing he could lose, and if the guy had wanted to kill him, he'd already be dead. Besides, the man had left his gun with him which always was a good sign in Ronon's opinion. When a man took away another's weapon, it was rarely for a good reason.

The meat was too warm, too dry and a little bit too tough, and it hadn't been seasoned at all - and judging by the raw, a little bitter and little too strong taste, it didn't come from a grazing animal, but from a predator. But Ronon was years past the point where he complained about _warm food_ , and he barely even noticed any of it as he took a first bite, tearing the meat unceremoniously with his teeth. The man dressed in furs seemed to approve, as by the time Ronon was half through with the meat strip, another was being offered.

"You got enough to spare?" Ronon asked, even as he accepted the meat and begun to tear into it.

There was a moment of silence as the man stared at him and then shifted. He seemed thoughtful, almost relieved for some reason. "Yes. Can always hunt more," the other answered, and Ronon realised why his voice seemed familiar. It was his own voice, the same guttural tone of a person who hadn't talked in weeks, in months. Maybe in years.

 The black haired man stared at him for a moment longer before reaching and taking another strip of meat, tearing into it himself. Then he turned his attention to Ronon again, looking him up and down with an odd squint, like trying to see in the dark. "Should, uh…. You should rest. Wounded." He said, making a motion towards Ronon's stomach. "Pretty badly."

"I know," Ronon grunted in answer. It was pretty hard to miss, as even now it felt like there was a knife in his gut, tearing things he’d rather not have be torn. The wound had been bandaged, he could feel some sort of cloth wrapped around his waist, but he didn't look down. If he didn't know how badly it had been tended to, he wouldn't cringe at the notion of the upcoming infection he'd no doubt get from being badly treated. "Need to eat more than rest."

"Hn," the man answered through a mouthful and nodded in what seemed to be complete understanding. And probably was. By the look of the man's wrists, he knew what it felt like to go hungry. "There's more," he said after a moment of silence.

Ronon was tempted - he rarely got the chance to eat until he was full. But the feel of his abdomen made him stop at two strips of meat. He didn't want to temp it, and if he was going to get sick sometime soon, he rather not get sick with stomach filled to the brim. "Maybe later," he said and eased himself back to his back. "Where are we?"

"Few miles," the man answered. "From where I found you," he added as an afterthought, frowning a little almost as if unsure if he has gotten it right. He shook his head and turned to the fire again, this time to coax the flames and add few sticks into it. Ronon felt an odd, twisted sympathy for the man, wondering how long he had been living in a cave. It looked well lived, judging by what he could see from where he lay. Well lived meant long lived and long lived in a cave meant a long time away from civilisation.

Not that it mattered. Though, still… "I thought this planet was empty," he said, frowning. It had been, when he had learned the address. That was why he had come here. If some people had settled on the planet since then, then… he might've brought his misfortune upon them.

The man didn't answer for a while, just looked at Ronon over the thick, mane-like fur covering his shoulder. His green eyes seemed wider than before. "Planet?" he muttered, turning away with a confused look about his face. "Well… I haven't seen anyone else. Before you," he said, sounding a little lost.

"You looked?" Ronon asked, just to be sure. After all, it was hard to see people if you avoided them. The man might've been a hermit of some sort, and there was a town just a mile away, full of people who'd be culled because Ronon had stepped on the planet.

"Looked. Yeah," the man nodded, shifting to sit and pulling his legs against his chest. "I went… walked up to ocean in the west. Another in the east," he said, making haphazard motion across the cave. "Didn't see anyone."

"Oh," Ronon murmured, frowning. "That… must've taken awhile."

"Two years, little more," the man answered, nodding. "Stopped looking after that. No use."

Ronon grunted in agreement. So the planet was empty, except for the other man. Whose name he didn't even know, despite the fact that the man had rescued him and fed him. He coughed, and tried to ignore the tang on his tongue, the lingering taste of blood. "Ronon Dex," he grunted. "My name."

"Ah, right," the other nodded, hesitated and then glanced at him. "Harry," he said. "Harry Potter."

The name sounded foreign, but then most people were foreign to Ronon. All people were, really. He swallowed a yawn and nodded. "Thanks," he said roughly as the tiredness started to pull his eyelids down. "Gonna pass out."

"You need to," the other agreed, and Ronon fell into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

The next time Ronon woke up, he was alone in the cave, and the fire had almost died out, barely giving any light in the otherwise lightless space. Grunting softly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, and looked around for any sign of his host.

The cave was rather small, not high enough for him to attempt standing up, and barely long enough for him to lie down comfortably. Still, it apparently served for the man, Potter, as his everyday living space judging by the way it looked. There were some unevenly shaped leather satchels bundled in the corner, along with a pair of roughly made buckets that seemed to hold water in them. There was also what looked like a simple water skin sitting not far from the fire pit. Aside from the pile of furs that had been serving as Ronon's bed, there was a pile of pelts not far from him, along with a pile of leather which looked like half made clothes. There was also a wooden box not far from the belts which was filled with bone shards, some of them carved to work as buttons and such.

Ronon approved of that, a little. Potter apparently used all of what he hunted, not just the meat. After living on the run and away from civilisation, Ronon did more or less the same. There was little choice, when you couldn't get your necessities by bartering, not unless you wanted to bring the Wraith upon the place where you bartered in.

Swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth, he shifted where he sat and glanced around again to see if there was any water nearby. There wasn't, the buckets and the water skin seemed to be the only ones. Sighing, he shifted to his knees and then to his feet, careful to remain a little crouched so that he wouldn't hit his head on the ceiling. It wasn't exactly comfortable and his stomach disagreed with the whole thing loudly and sharply, but he ignored it. He needed something to drink.

The water tasted stale, but it was clean enough and quenched his thirst all the while washing the taste of blood from his tongue. He risked his host's disapproval and used a few handfuls of the water to wash his face, before shifting to sit on his knees. Then, finally, he dared a look down.

Potter had removed his shirt in order to bandage the wound. To Ronon's relief, the cloth used in the bandaging was clean - it was darker and thicker than the gauze they would've used in Sateda, but there was a wad of almost white cloth held over the wound by the darker strip of cloth. And when Ronon dared to move the bandage a little, he also saw that the wound had been cleaned and there was some sort of salve applied between the bandage and the wound. Hopefully, it was the good sort of salve that kept the wound clean as it healed and not the bad sort of salve which would give him blood poisoning.

As the skin around the wound didn't seem to be feeling any negative effects, he decided to leave the bandage where it was. Instead he glanced around in search of his effects. His gun was still strapped at his hip and he could feel that most of his knives were where they ought to be. He was however missing a shirt, a coat, a bag and a sword. Those, thankfully, he found in a bundle next to where he had been sleeping, the coat neatly folded underneath a washed shirt, the sword sitting on the rough stone floor beside them, safely in its sheath.

Ronon was in middle of the process of pulling his shirt on, marvelling the fact that not only was it washed, but it was also sewn, when the leather flap that seemed to serve as the cave's door, was pushed aside. Potter too, though he was much shorter than Ronon was, had to bent his head in the cave and as soon as he had settled the flap back into its place, the man knelt down. He was carrying a leather bag and as Ronon watched, he started pulling containers out of it. Roughly carved cups and such, with berries, fruits and vegetables stuffed in.

"You need… more than meat," the man said awkwardly as he placed the simple wooden containers to the floor. "To regain your strength."

"I appreciate it," Ronon said, because he really couldn't say anything else. He wasn't modest enough to pretend he would've preferred to have gone without troubling the man, and he needed it too much to decline, so simple thanks was best. "They're all edible?"

"Yeah. I've eaten them. Didn't get sick," the man answered with a rough, wild grin, squinting a little. He pushed one of the smaller containers forward. It had in it bright green leaves in it. "These will help with pain. Won't taste good, though."

That definitely wasn't something Ronon was about to decline, so as soon as his shirt was comfortably settled on him, he shifted forward and took one of the leaves. They looked vaguely familiar and he had an impression that he had seen his grandmother once make a tea out of the leaves. That was good enough reassurance for him, so he popped the thing into his mouth, and chewed.

Potter's grin widened a little at the face Ronon made at the taste, but said nothing and after managing to swallow the bitter thing, Ronon took a few more of the leaves. Then, once he had eaten as many of them as he could bear to, he turned to the berries, fruits and vegetables. Most of them were familiar so he tucked in, and as Potter made no move to tell him to slow down or to save some for him, the Runner made quick work through all of the containers, even eating most of the vegetables after brushing the worst of dirt off them.

"Good," the black haired man only said once he was done, and offered the water skin to him. Ronon drank a few hungry gulps and as he handed the skin back to the other man, he felt content in a way he hadn't in a long time. A full stomach was a rarity on the run.

"Thanks," Ronon said, sitting back to ease the tension on the wound. "I needed that." He didn't even want to think about how much he had needed it. Hunting was, at times, faster and gathering berries and such took time he rarely had in his disposal. For months now he had been living off meat and water alone with the occasional fish thrown in.

"I figured." Potter nodded, taking one of the remaining vegetables and biting into it. Then he moved to put the containers away, moving them aside where they wouldn't be in the way.

Now that he wasn't in immediate need of anything, Ronon leaned back a little and examined his host. Potter was obviously some sort of hermit. The way he lived and the clothes he wore all indicated that. Like with Ronon himself, his pants were leather, as was his rough footwear. Beneath the odd, fur shawl he wore, he was wearing a shirt also made of leather, all of them rather dark in colour, almost back. Most of the clothes were worn and old, with tears and rips in them which had been mended with a clumsy needle. The shawl was the oldest of the clothes, as it was ragged and worn, almost as messy as the man's partially matted long hair. Still, beneath the messy long hair and the thin beard, the man was young, probably a little younger than Ronon himself was.

Ronon knew better than to ask, though. People ended up in weird circumstances all the time - the Wraith could drive the sanest of them into odd places and odd ways of living. So instead he let the curiosity pass. "How long was I out?"

"It's been a day since I found you," the other answered. "Six hours since you passed out the last time."

A day. The Wraith must've known where he was. Of course they did. Why hadn't they sent someone to hunt him yet? Laziness or were they waiting for him to recover from the wounds? "I should leave," Ronon said. It didn't matter. The sooner he left the better for Potter. The man, as odd as he was, had been kind to him. He didn't want to repay him by feeding him to the Wraith.

"Could you?" Potter asked, looking a little curious. "With that wound, I mean."

"I've had worse," Ronon said, scowling.

"Maybe. But the predators here wouldn't care," the other answered. Apparently he was getting a little more used to talking, as his voice wasn't so gruff sounding anymore.

"What sort of predators?" He had dealt with animals before, big one, small ones, poisonous ones….

"Cats," the other man answered, making a motion above them. "Very big cats."

"Do they hunt in packs?" Ronon asked. Very big cats would be a very big problem if they hunted in packs.

"No, but still. Not easy to take down," Potter answered, shaking his head. "And where would you go? There's nothing out there." At this point he frowned, looking at Ronon a little suspiciously.

"There's the Ring of the Ancestors," Ronon answered, raising his eyebrows a little with confusion. It was the obvious answer, after all. There was the Ring and as long as there was the Ring, there was another place to go, and another, and another. And yet, to Potter the Ring seemed to say nothing. "The round thing." He clarified. "Not far from where you found me."

Potter still didn't seem to understand, only stared at him. Ronon frowned back. "I can use it to get out of this world and go to another one," he said. Now Potter's eyebrows rose sharply, almost vanishing beneath the shaggy hair. "You didn't know that?" Ronon asked, a little shocked.

"No," Potter answered slowly, blinking. "Another world?" he then asked. "Really?"

"Lots of them," Ronon nodded. He had never met anyone, beyond very young children, who didn't know what the Ring did. "There are Rings on lot of planets. All Rings are connected. If you’ve got the address…" he stopped, as Potter frowned at him. "How did you get here if you didn't use the Ring?"

Potter looked away sharply, frowning. "I was exiled," he said then, jerking his head oddly as if to shake and nod it at the same time. "Six years ago."

"Exiled," Ronon repeated. "And… not through the Ring?" he asked again, just to be sure.

Potter shrugged his shoulders. "There were ruins," he said, motioning towards the door. "Few days' walk that way. I woke up there," he frowned. "I've seen… the Ring a few times. Never figured what it was for."

Ronon frowned. Potter's world might be one of the places where people had kept the Ring of the Ancestors secret from the main population. Maybe they used it as a way of punishing criminals or something used it to take people to empty planets and leave them there. Though, six years ago? Potter couldn't have been older than fifteen then. "What were you exiled for?"

The other man hesitated before shrugging his shoulders again. "A boy was killed. I was convenient to blame," he said, shifting to his feet. "Some wanted the worst punishment for me. Others didn't. They decided to banish me instead." He grinned, an oddly feral expression. "Out of sight, out of mind."

It sounded like a saying or a metaphor, Ronon mused, but decided to ignore it in favour of examining the man before him. Potter was… strange. But anyone would be after living six years on an odd planet without any humans about. Especially if the place did have big cats in it. However he rather doubted that the man was a killer. He had a sharpness to him, the sort only a sharp life could make, but it wasn't ruthless - or desperate - the way a murderer would be. "Why was the boy killed?"

"Wrong place, wrong time," Potter shrugged, glancing at him and smiling slightly sadly. "We were in the same school. Little older than me. Can't even remember what he looked like." He looked away, slouching his shoulders a little. "They didn't want to… accept the actual killer. Didn't want to think he existed. Blaming me was… easier."

"…Ah," Ronon said in sudden understanding, and frowned darkly. He knew about worlds like that. Wraith came and killed. People around those who were killed didn't want to believe in monsters and wanted to rather stick to their sweet ignorance instead, so they blamed someone else. Sometimes people blamed each other for being bad luck and for bringing the Wraith to them, too, like it mattered. People did strange things like that when they were scared. Went with whatever was easier for the mind to handle.

"Would you go back if you could?" he asked before managing to stop himself.

"Would be nice, sure," Potter snorted. "But I bet they'd exile me again. If they still remember me," he added, before shaking his head and turned to look at him. "Rest. I can take you to the… Ring once you have."

"I should go now," Ronon protested. "I'm being hunted. They will know where to find me."

"How?" Potter asked, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't leave tracks in the forest."

"Doesn't matter. I’ve got a tracking device," he motioned at his neck. "In my back."

The other man gave him a slightly incredulous look. "You're a fugitive?" he asked.

"A game," Ronon scowled, knowing fully well that if the Wraith really needed to catch him, they would've done it ages ago. They had the ships and they knew where he was all the fucking time. But they hadn't because he wasn't a necessity. He was entertainment. "I'm amusement for them."

Potter looked at him silently for a moment, before accepting the words with a nod. "Rest," he said again.

"I've already been here too long," Ronon frowned. "They might be on the way."

"And I know to expect them now," Potter answered with a sort of casual confidence that made Ronon blink. "Rest," the black haired man ordered this time, before moving to the flap at the threshold. "I'll keep watch."

"You can't take them," Ronon snapped. "They're not human."

"Lot of things aren't," Potter agreed, and next moment he was gone. Ronon stared after him with mixture of agitation and worry, before moving to sit up. His stomach turned and twisted and he almost groaned out loud as he felt some healed part of the wound break and start to bleed, but he ignored it in favour of walking to the door flap. He pushed it aside, intending to follow Potter to explain the man exactly why it was better that he just leave - and then stopped dead on his tracks.

There was a small field outside, surrounded by bushes with trees looming nearby. Potter was walking through the field, steps rather noisy among the grass and moss - and next to him walked a black feline so big, that its shoulders reached the top of Potter's head. The size wasn't as shocking as the behaviour, though. Ronon had seen big animals before, almost been eaten by a few of couple of occasions. But this one… this one acted like one of the domesticated cats he had seen people keep on Sateda. Had… Potter tamed it?

After a moment of thought, Ronon shrugged his shoulders and returned to the cave. He had seen weirder things - and if the cat was Potter's domesticated pet, then… then maybe he could take a Wraith after all. And Ronon wasn't really in a state to run after him to stop him.

Hissing through his teeth, he returned to the furs and sat down, wincing and trying to apply pressure to would to keep it from getting worse. He'd need days to recover, weeks. Running in this state would be bad, he knew it from experience. Of course, usually he didn't have choice. But… but maybe he could trust in Potter now, for a while. At least until he didn't hurt so much.

Ronon lay back down with a sigh. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone watch his back.

 

* * *

Ronon watched silently as Potter ground some herbs, roots and some other stuff he wasn't too curious to know the origins off into fine powders, mixing them in a wooden cup. The black haired man was obviously making some sort of medicine and though Ronon had learned a thing or two about making some salves and such while on the run, he had lost the track of what the man was doing a while ago. He had used some familiar plants like the Eiban leaf which Ronon himself used in cuts and such to avoid infection and Deryson root which on other hand usually helped with swelling, but the rest of the plants were more or less unknown to him.

"You know medicine?" he asked finally, as the other man mixed some sort of faintly amber coloured liquid into the powder, turning it thick paste.

"Potions and herbology," Potter answered. "Basics, but good enough."

Ronon nodded. Potions was probably some sort of study of medicine mixing and herbology probably a study of plants in Potter's world. Some worlds had their own names for things like that. Some places they were called tonics, others it was called poisonology, and so forth. Ronon himself only knew first aid, but his partner had been a physician, so he had picked up few things up. Most of his most useful herb knowledge, though, came from his grandparents, old fashioned survivalists, who were the main reason the Wraith hadn't managed to kill him yet.

"What does it do?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Purifies, takes away the pain - makes sure it won't get worse," Potter answered. "Can only help on the surface, your insides have to heal on their own."

"I figured," Ronon nodded, watching how Potter added a little bit of water before finally mixing a little bit of what looked like bark into the mixture. Then the black haired man spent a good five minutes stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon. As he did, the brownish texture turned eventually colourless, making Ronon raise his eyebrows. Potter's basics were better than his basics, way better.

"It's done," Potter finally said before moving to Ronon's side with a fresh bandages and a white wad of fabric which looked like it had been a part of some clothing once. Ronon sat up and pulled his shirt up and without further ado, Potter started to remove the old bandage around his stomach to replace it.

"You done this sort of thing before?" Ronon asked, wondering if Potter had once studied to be a physician of some sort.

"To myself," the man agreed. "But I was taught how to make salves. Part of herbology lessons, knowledge of medicinal plants. Most of them don't grow here, but..." he shrugged his shoulders and laid the dirty bandage to the floor, before starting to peel the cloth over the wound carefully back. "But I learned. Trial and error."

Years back, that wouldn't have sounded too promising to Ronon. Years back, though, he’d had hospitals and real physicians to trust in and though back then Potter would've seemed primitive to him with his herbology, now the man seemed like a precious commodity - a specialist of a very important sort. Knowledge of medicine was never wasted learning. It helped to know that _trial and error_ had all happened at Potter's own expense.

"It looks good," Potter murmured as he inspected the wound. Ronon had to agree. Though it hurt like hell, it still looked like it was healing. And if he had been by himself, it would've either hurt worse, been already infected or it wouldn't have hurt at all, having already killed him. The wound was still fresh, but it wasn't bleeding excessively, having already started to heal around the edges.

"I have a bottle of alcohol in my bag," Ronon said, frowning. "Disinfect."

Potter shook his head. "Would do more damage than good," he said. "The salve will be enough."

Ronon could've argued against that, but chose not to, and instead watched how Potter washed the wound carefully, before starting to apply the salve to it. He gasped softly and leaned back at the feeling. Take away the pain, Potter had said. The salve certainly did that - it felt like ice had been spread onto the wound, immediately turning the surrounding area numb. He could still feel the damage inside, but the surface, all he could feel was the coolness of the salve.

"I would love to have more of this stuff," he muttered, eyeing his stomach with wonder.

"I can make more. It's best when it's fresh, though," Potter smiled, spreading the salve carefully into the wound and around it in thick layer, before brushing his fingers on the dirty bandages. Then he took the clean ones and after pressing the almost white cloth to the wound, he bound it into place with the darker fabric. "Done," he then said, and Ronon eased his shirt back down.

"Thanks," the Runner said.

Potter nodded, bundling up the dirty bandages and shifting back. "I'll make you some tea," he said. "To make sure you won't get a fever."

Ronon nodded in thanks, not wanting to repeat himself so soon. Instead he leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of the pain being sapped away by the salve. He really wanted more of it. He wanted a jar full of it so that he could use it whenever he needed it. Would be damn useful on the run. "Some worlds would pay you a lot for this stuff," he mused, fingering his shirt over the bandage to make sure it wouldn't put too much pressure on the wound. "Everyone's short on medicine."

"Hm," Potter only answered while taking out what looked like a stone pot and placing it over the fire, before pouring some water to it from the water skin. "Maybe," he finally said while starting to make another mixture of herbs.

Ronon frowned. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of eventually just leaving and being done with it. He needed to thank Potter somehow - and though normally he would've offered something he owned, a knife or something, as payment, it didn't seem good enough. Healing was more valuable than that, and Potter had gone a long way to see to his needs. Dragging him to a safe place, making sure he got rest, feeding him, bandaging him - the man had gone to find food specifically for him, even - and making medicine for him. Someone might've done one or two of those things for a stranger, but not all of them.

Leaving the man without more than a _thanks_ didn't seem right.

"I could give you some addresses," he said. "I know some worlds where you could... start over."

Potter glanced at him before turning to the herbs again. He didn't say anything.

"This place won't be safe. The Wraith will come even after I leave, make sure I can't come back," Ronon said, scowling. Wraiths tended to check out the planets he visited, either to cull them if there were any people, or just to make it harder for him to make it later on, if he returned. And when the Wraith came here and found Potter… or worse yet, found out Potter had helped him... "It won't be safe here."

Potter said nothing, just poured the herbs into the water in the stone pot and stirred. "And you?" he then asked.

"I’ll go to another world," Ronon answered with a shake of his head. "Find another place to hide, to stay for a while. This place would be good to stick around if I wasn't wounded," he mused. The woods gave excellent cover and it would be hard even for a Wraith to navigate in. If he was just well enough to scout the area and make some traps, he could've stayed for a while here, weeks even, maybe.

"Then heal," Potter simply said.

Ronon frowned, glancing at the man, at the way the man's shoulders slumped a little under the fur shawl. "It doesn't work like that," he then said. He could see where the man was coming from, and he could sympathise with it. Company was... relieving after so long alone. Potter had been alone longer than he had been, so of course the man would want... but it didn't work like that. "If they know you helped me, they'll kill you."

"I can take care of myself."

Ronon snorted. "Not like this," he answered. No one could take care of themselves against the Wraith. Against one Wraith, maybe, two if you were good, more if you were exceptional. The problem with Wraith, though, was the fact that they kept coming, endlessly. There was always more coming. And Ronon knew what it led to if he stayed. He managed to defeat one Wraith, two, five... eventually they got annoyed with it, and changed the rules. Set forests on fire or triggered some sort of gas, forcing him to leave or die. One time they had flushed him out of one good planet by orbital bombardment. It had been a pity, as the canyon he had lived in had been the perfect place to hide in.

Potter didn't say anything for a while, concentrating on the tea instead. "Who are they?" he finally asked while taking a ladle and scooping some of the tea into a wooden cup.

"Who?" Ronon asked.

"Wraith."

The Runner blinked, aiming a frown at the man. "You don't know what the Wraith are?" he asked.

"Wouldn't have asked if I did," Potter shrugged, moving to his side and handing the cup to him. "They're the ones hunting you?"

Ronon nodded slowly, looking at the other for a moment. Potter seriously didn't seem to know. Though, if he had been blamed for something that a Wraith had done, maybe it wasn't so unbelievable. Maybe his world had gone through a cycle of denial and forced itself to forget the Wraith - and when one of them had shown up, no one had known or remembered what it was. "They're a race," he then said. "They hunt humans, feed on their strength."

"That... sounds familiar," Potter muttered thoughtfully. "What do they look like?"

Ronon frowned, but described a Wraith. It was so odd that someone didn't know. Everyone knew what a Wraith looked like. Though, on the other hand... before the Wraith had come to Sateda, even they had forgotten the Wraith, except for the old stories. That was mostly because of the Wraith that _owned_ their planet. The sadistic bastard had gotten a thrill out of letting them flourish and then annihilating them when they were just about to get strong enough to fight back properly.

"They... my people went to war against them... if you could call it that," Ronon said after a moment of silence. "They came through the Ring and by ships, bombarded our towns and cities, took our people. I was taken... and made a Runner. For their amusement."

Potter stared at him silently for a while, before shaking his head. "How many are there? Wraith, how many are there?" he asked, more curious than worried or even sympathetic.

"No one knows. More than anyone can handle," Ronon muttered bitterly. "During the culling of my planet, we saw four hive-ships. They're, ah... as big as cities. Cruisers and carriers... thousands of foot soldiers." He grimaced. "Sateda had a good army. Wasn't good enough."

The other man was quiet for a moment, before shifting back and sitting down from his awkward, crouched position. "And they can find you even here, on another planet?"

"They can find me anywhere in the galaxy, I know that much for certain," Ronon spat, grimacing as the reflexive tightening of his muscles made the wound pulse painfully. "I've gone through dozens of worlds. They always find me eventually."

Potter blinked sharply, before quickly looking away. "Galaxy, hm," he murmured, shaking his head a little confusedly.

"Hundreds of planets. You could find a place to live," Ronon said. "The Wraith are everywhere, sure, but... you would have company."

"Already have company," Potter answered, raising a single eyebrow at him.

Ronon shook his head. "I'm not good company, Potter," he answered. "Can't stay, either."

Another short silence followed before Potter jerked slightly, turning his head. A split second later, Ronon heard it too, the snarling roar of a large animal. The black haired man was immediately on his feet, and at the threshold of the cave, the Runner only few seconds slower than him. As Potter pulled the flap aside, he could hear something else. Stunner blasts. "The Wraith," he snarled, pulling out his weapon.

The shorter man frowned. "Ran into one of my sentinels," he said before taking some things from underneath the shawl. The first was a wooden stick about as long as his forearm. Another was a bone whistle, which Potter brought to his lips, and blew. It made no sound, but snarls and roars came from the woods in answer.

"What is that?" Ronon asked, though he could already guess. It was some way of calling for Potter's tamed animals.

"Back up," Potter answered, crouching at the threshold as the bushes surrounding the field outside the cave rustled. The first animal was as big as the one Ronon had seen the first time, a large grey cat with thick, long mane and teeth as long as Ronon's fingers. Not soon after, another came forward, and then another, all settling in the field to wait.

"You tamed them all?" Ronon asked, a little awed. He had seen animal trainers before, but this was something else.

"I control them, I didn't tame them," Potter answered, fingering the wooden stick as the animals gathered in the field. "It's not easy survive here without some help."

"You control them. How?" Ronon asked, now a little more impressed.

"It's a trick," Potter answered, and frowned as they heard more stunner blasts, and more snarling. The predators in the field moved anxiously, the ends of their long tails flickering. The snarling in the distance stopped along with the blasts. The Wraith had dealt with the cat it had run into.

"Sounds like your sentinel was taken out. It's probably just the one Wraith," Ronon said while setting his pistol to lethal setting. "They usually come one by one."

"Good for us," Potter said, narrowing his eyes while Ronon crouched carefully beside him not wanting to make a too big of a target.

Then the Wraith appeared - a tall, white haired creature wearing black leather, with a long stunner blaster held in his arms. He only got one step towards the cave before he was already in Ronon's sights. Before the Runner took the shot, though, Potter shouted, "Attack!"

 The beasts that had gathered immediately rushed forward. It wasn't the most well organised attack, but it gave the Wraith a start - he hadn't expected a fight like this, it seemed. He only got the change to shoot a few of the half dozen beasts before the rest overwhelmed him, one pinning him to the ground. While the other beasts surrounded him, the Wraith snarled, lifting the stunner. He managed to shoot the enormous beast over him, and just managing to get out from under it before it collapsed.

"Get that thing off him," Potter snapped at the large felines and shot forward, Ronon at his heels. The beasts immediately made quick work of the Wraith, one of them pinning him back to the ground while another snatched the stunner from the Wraith's hand with its teeth and stepped back.

The Wraith snarled as Ronon and Potter came over, Ronon giving somewhat uneasy looks at the enormous felines. They seemed to not care about him, but it was still unnerving to be surrounded by so many enormous predators. He shook his head and turned to the Wraith, aiming his blaster at him.

"This is a Wraith?" Potter asked curiously, aiming his stick as the Wraith's head.

"That's a Wraith," Ronon nodded grimacing at the monster at it snarled at them, breathy and with plenty of sharp teeth shown. There was a shadow flickering not far from them, and Ronon had to fight the urge of turning around to see what it was. A few of the beasts did turn, growling, but of course there was nothing there.

"What...?" Potter murmured, glancing away, towards where the shadow had flickered. "I could swear...."

"He's trying to make us see things. We should kill him," Ronon snapped, glancing at the man beside him. Potter didn't seem like a killer to him, but killing a Wraith was a different thing. They weren't human, after all. "He'd kill us. Feed on us."

"Hmm," Potter answered, tilting his head to the side. Then he did something with his stick, muttering something underneath his breath. There was a flash of red light that passed between the stick and the Wraith, and immediately the Wraith fell still, silent and unconscious. Ronon blinked with surprise and kept his pistol aimed at the thing, while Potter crouched beside the Wraith. "They can make people see things?"

"Hm. They do it during cullings, to make people panic. Make them easier targets," Ronon muttered, looking between Potter, the beasts surrounding them, and the unconscious Wraith. "We can't leave him alive. There's no point. You can't reason with a Wraith."

Potter ignored him, aiming the wand at the Wraith's head and muttering something softly. The Wraith jerked, but nothing else happened. Potter frowned, and did it again with same result. "Hm. He's resistant against Imperius," he said.

"What?" Ronon asked, frowning.

"The trick I use to control these," Potter said, patting the nearest cat predator's leg. "Doesn't work on the Wraith."

Ronon frowned, for a moment wondering if he should ask how the trick worked, before shaking his head. "Mind tricks wouldn't work on them. They're sort of telepathic," he said, and motioned around them. "That's how they make the shadows."

"I guess that explains it," Potter murmured, motioning the felines to back away as he examined the Wraith a little closer, checking the face. "They feed through the hand?" he asked, taking the Wraith's hands and examining them, frowning a little at the opening in one of the palms.

"Yeah. Slap their hand to your chest and take years off your life," Ronon answered. "Dunno how it works, but it does. Seen it happen a lot of times."

"Hmm," Potter answered, still looking thoughtful. "Wasn't hard to take out, this Wraith."

Ronon blinked and then snorted a little incredulously, motioning at the beasts around them. "He wasn't exactly expecting this," he said. "Just me, and no one else. If they had known that they'd be up against this, they would've sent more Wraiths." He frowned and glanced around them. There might be a scouting probe nearby, recording the whole thing. "They will probably send more soon, when this one doesn't return. I should leave."

"Why do you want to go alone?" Potter asked, looking up. "You're wounded, not in the right state to fight."

"I don't want --" Ronon started snarling, then paused. He hissed through his teeth, grimacing. "I bring these bastards down on everyone I run across. You helped me. I don't want to repay with more of this," he motioned at the Wraith. "And if they find out you helped me, especially if they know you took one of them down -"

The shorter man gave him a cool look. "I can take care of myself."

"Yes, I can see that, but if they start firing from the orbit - they could raze this planet to the ground," Ronon snapped. "And you along with it."

Potter stood up, hiding the stick-weapon beneath the fur shawl. "Then I won't stay."

"Good," the Runner snarled, then taking a deep breath to calm himself down. "Good. I can show you some addresses where you can go - they'd welcome a healer --"

"I'll come with you," Potter said, turning to head to the cave.

"What? No, that's... no," Ronon said, quickly following him. "I can sent you to a planet where there will be people, you just -"

"I'll come with you," the other repeated, tugging the door flap down completely before starting to rummage through the cave, collecting things as he went. "You need help. And I'm not an idiot. I'm not fit for civilisation. Don't know what I would do anyway." Potter answered, taking a rough bag and starting to shove things into it. "Too long alone. No," he said, when Ronon opened his mouth to argue. "You need help," he repeated.

"I can handle myself," Ronon answered, grimacing as he repeated the words Potter himself had spoken a few times now.

"Not right now you can't," the shorter man answered, glaring. "Too badly wounded to even walk properly. You need help."

The Runner grimaced but couldn't really deny it. His knees felt shaky and there was a layer of sweat on his brow, either from the strain of walking, from the pain or from upcoming fever. And if it was the latter... "It's not a good idea."

"Not known for them," Potter grinned while taking a wooden bowl and starting to shove what was left of his food into it. After fitting a lid to the bowl, he threw it into his bag before starting to compile some tools - like the ones he had used in medicine making. "I need to gather some stuff. Herbs, bark, fungi. To make more salve later on. I can do that on the way to the Ring, but it'll take time."

"… It'll probably take a few hours at least before more Wraiths will show up, you'll have time," Ronon sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine. We go together. But only until I'm completely healed," he said sternly while getting his things. "Then I'll go alone."

"Maybe," Potter answered, giving a thoughtful look at some of the pelts and furs before shaking his head and turning to his clothing instead, and putting some of them into his bag.

"This is a bad idea," Ronon muttered, but Potter only threw him a grin as they finished their quick packing. "We need to deal with the Wraith," he said, pulling his coat on and after making sure his sword was safely secured to his back, he hoisted his backpack up. Then he had to catch his breath. All the moving didn't agree with the wound at all, and the extra weight on his back certainly wasn't good for it.

"I… uh…" Potter answered, looking a little uneasy at the prospect.

"I can do it," Ronon offered simple and plain. He had no troubles with the idea of killing a Wraith - hell, sometimes it was all that made life worth living. But he didn't blame the other man for his hesitation. It was an idea that took time getting used to, killing.

Potter still had a slightly uneasy look about him as he threw his bag over his shoulder. Then turned away, glancing around the cave last time, before shaking his head and turning to leave. After a moment of badly concealed hesitation, he gave Ronon a thoughtful look. "I'll have one of the cats carry you to the Ring," he decided. It sounded oddly like a _thank you._

Ronon wanted to argue, but he knew that he'd slow the other man down - and walking would probably make the wound worse. So, without saying anything against it, he followed the shorter man out of the cave and glanced at the beasts. "You sure that's safe?" he asked just to be sure. Even the smallest of them looked like it could take his head off his shoulders in one bite.

"They're under my control, and won't do anything I don't order them to do," Potter answered. Looking between the cats and the unconscious Wraith. Then he glanced at Ronon from the corner of his eye, very carefully not saying anything more.

Ronon stepped forward, pulling his pistol out. It was a simple process to limp to the Wraith, turn the pistol in his hand, and aim it down. The Wraith convulsed slightly as the blast hit it, and then fell completely inert. "Done," he said, turning the pistol to the stun setting and pushing it into the holster.

Potter swallowed and nodded, before demonstrating his control over the felines by ordering the biggest of them to come closer and lay down so that Ronon could get onto its back. The cat growled, but did nothing as Ronon threw one leg a little clumsily over the creature's back. "Stand," Potter ordered once the taller man was securely seated. The beast stood up, forcing Ronon to take hold of its mane to keep himself seated.

"These things would make a hell of a way to travel," he murmured in wonder even while feeling oddly embarrassed. The beast was so big that he felt like a clumsy little kid on its back. However, the beast was impressively powerful - his weight probably didn't mean a thing to it. One of them, tamed, as his steed through every world he travelled in.... He would've liked that quite a bit. Would've given him a head start on the Wraith on more than few instances.

"Feeding would be a problem," Potter answered, glancing at the other beasts and then at the Wraith. Then he shook his head and turned away. "Let's go," he said, and led the beast carrying Ronon away from the cave and the small field around it, leaving the dead Wraith alone with the enormous cats.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before Ronon realised that the feline, as powerful as it was, wasn't easy to ride. The pace was uncomfortable and the back shifted under him, almost throwing him off a few times before he got adjusted to it. Cats, he mused, weren't really meant to be ridden. At least not without something to hold onto, some sort of saddle or something like that. And apparently they didn't much care for someone pulling their mane, he thought with a mild grimace while the beast growled at him for doing exactly that.

Potter either didn't notice or didn't care about his difficulties, too busy gathering plants as they went, ripping bark off a tree, snatching mushrooms from the ground... all which were showed without much ceremony into his bag. Ronon watched him for a while, before speaking out in order to try and distract himself from the fact that his ride could eat him. "How does it work?" he asked. "The controlling... trick."

"It's a talent my kind have, an ability," Potter answered, taking out the wooden stick from before and holding it out for Ronon to see even while ripping flower buds from a nearby bush. "Just as long as I got this, I can make pretty much anything follow my orders. Animals are easy, not too intelligent, can't put up a fight. Can do it to humans too. Never tried to, though."

Ronon frowned. "So you could make me do whatever you wanted with that thing?" he asked, a little suspicious.

"Maybe. If you’ve got a strong will, you can fight it," Potter answered, and glanced at him. "There wouldn't be any point in controlling you, though. I only use the animals because I need the protection."

The Runner kept staring at the shorter man for a while, still frowning, before he finally nodded. Potter hadn't shown any hostility towards him yet, so it was a safe bet to trust his words. "You can use that thing to stun too. Like with the Wraith. What else can it do?" he then asked.

"Lots of things," Potter answered and waved the stick towards a nearby bush, muttering something. The bush shuddered, and as Ronon watched, a few of the leaves were ripped out of it. His eyes widened with shock as the leaves floated gracefully through the air, and then directly into Potter's bag. "That sort of thing," Potter said, closing the bag and hiding the stick.

"That..." Ronon trailed away, giving the other man a serious look. "The Ancestors were said to be able to move things without touching them. With their minds," he said slowly. The Ancestors had had many abilities like that - they were said to heal with their minds and heal with their touch. Potter hadn't done anything like that, but controlling animals, making things fly....

"Good for them," Potter answered.

"All your people can do this sort of things?" Ronon asked, wondering if Potter's people were descendants of the Ancestors.

"Some of them," Potter answered. "Changing the shape of things, making things float... that sort of stuff is pretty common among those who can. We learn in school how to do it, some better, some worse. And how to make potions, and so forth."

"Hm," Ronon murmured, trying not to show how impressed he was. With abilities like that - yeah, Potter could definitely take care of himself. It also explained why the Wraith hadn't exactly impressed the man. When you could move things with a stick of wood... "Your world must be an interesting place," he muttered about as diplomatically as he could, wondering how Potter's people would handle themselves against the Wraith.

"Only if you're interested in it," Potter answered, glancing at him. "What about yours?"

"Sateda?" Ronon asked and shook his head. "It was home. Pretty good technology, medicine, stuff like that... we were... we did good. Weapons, machines, we were well set. Not many worlds get to that point," he frowned, turning his eyes to the forest around them. "It had forests and mountains and oceans, not that different from other worlds." Who knew if it had anything now days. Wraith could do some serious damage if they wanted to.

"Why did the Wraith attack you?" Potter asked.

"Why do they attack anyone? To feed. And to make sure no one can stand up to them," Ronon answered. "Lots of people are destroyed by the Wraith because they're potential threats. Sateda was like that. We were getting too strong. A few more decades and we might've…. They don't care for that."

"Pleasant folk," Potter muttered, shaking his head as he picked a plant from the ground and looking at it studiously. "And it's like that all over the galaxy?"

"There are rumours about worlds the Wraith don't bother with. That have weapons or protections or something else the Wraith can't go around," Ronon answered. "But... I think they're a myth. Stuff people tell themselves to keep their hopes up."

"Utopias, huh," Potter murmured and threw the plant away.

"Sometimes people need one. Or a few," Ronon mused, giving the man a thoughtful look. Despite all the talk about Wraith, Potter didn't seem scared. Or concerned. Or even particularly interested. "It doesn't move you at all. Wraith. You don't care."

The shorter man glanced at him at the accusation and then shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "Hasn't sunken in yet. The whole thing. Wraiths, planets, galaxy…" he made a circling motion with his hand to encircle everything they had talked about in one bundle. "Doesn't seem real yet."

"Oh," Ronon murmured, feeling a bit stupid. Of course it wouldn't have. Potter probably hadn't even known there were different planets, given the fact that he didn't know what the Ring was. And one encounter with a one Wraith wasn't enough to impact the full severity of the situation. It usually took a cruiser or a hive for that to happen. "You better be prepared," he said without much pity for the ignorance the other was still enjoying. "Coming with me, it'll end up sinking in sooner or later."

"Hm. Let's hope so," Potter nodded and looked ahead as they reached the Ring. When Ronon had arrived on the planet, he had been too out of it to see more than the woods and the moss, but now that he saw the actual place, he realised why Potter hadn't thought that the Ring was important. The pedestal beneath it was covered in moss and the dialling device was half hidden between bushes. It looked like a half-forgotten monument, rather than the gateway it was.

"Get me down from this thing," Ronon said after a moment of silence, and Potter ordered the feline to lie down again, before moving to help the bigger man to his feet. Ronon looked at the big cat as it lay on the ground, wild and ferocious even whilst restrained by Potter's odd mind trick. Bringing the cat along would've been… both oddly comforting and worrying. "Now what?" he asked, motioning at the cat. The animal was under Potter's control so it was his choice.

"I've abused it enough," Potter answered, eyeing the enormous cat, before jerking his head. "Go. Leave," he ordered, and the beast stood up fluently before dashing into the woods.

"Abused," Ronon repeated curiously.

"I was forcing my will over its. Necessary for my survival, but not exactly kind," Potter shrugged, looking at him with raised eyebrows. Then he nodded at the Ring in silent question.

Ronon didn't answer and instead limped towards the dialling device. Practiced habit brought an address to his mind, and he dialled it without even bothering to try and remember if he knew anything about the planet it belonged to. He punched in the symbols with determined sharpness before hitting the circle in the middle. He was used to the noise the Ring made as it responded to the dialling, but the sound made Potter take a step back - and when the Ring's vortex opened, bushing out in horizontal geyser before collapsing into the puddle it was while active, Potter gaped.

"Incredible," the shorter man murmured, stepping closer to the shimmering blue surface. "It looks magical," he murmured.

Ronon snorted, stepping forward. "Isn't. Pure science, no miracles involved," he assured, though not without sympathy. Some less advanced races had some interesting notions about the Ring, so he knew where the man was coming from. During his off-world training he had even seen a race which had worshiped the Ring as an artefact of the gods. He had almost been burned at the stake for defiling it.

"Though I guess it's science no one understands. Satedan scientists tried for a long while to figure out how it worked," he said. "All they could determine before the end was that it makes tunnels through space. Come on," he added, patting the shorter man's shoulder. "Best way to know what it does is to experience it."

Potter opened his mouth to argue, but Ronon shut him up by shoving him into the portal. He grinned faintly at the yelp the shorter man made just before vanishing into the blue, and followed him in. Having a companion, even if for a little while, was going to be weird.


	2. Chapter 2

Ronon had long since lost the lustre of new worlds. He had seen so many of them that they had started to meld into each other and now days he didn't really see any difference between this or that planet. They were generally pretty much the same - same gravity and same air and that was just about all that mattered. Sure, some were warmer than others, others had different nature, or weather, or whatever - everyone had different sky. But once he had seen dozens of planets, the fact that this world had mountains high enough to reach clouds while this one was covered in ice… it didn't really seem as incredible as it did to some.

Potter on other hand… it was only his third planet, and he had lived six years on the previous. So, Ronon mused, it wasn't no wonder that he found the high hill they emerged on interesting. The obvious fascination was actually oddly amusing. The shorter man's eyes were wide with shock and when they weren't wide, he was squinting to see into the distance to see how far the hills stretched. And when he wasn't staring, he touched the ground and examined the plants and stones where he could reach as if not really sure if what he saw was real.

"It's different," Potter said finally, picking a flower from the ground and staring at it with fascination.

"Every world's a little different," Ronon said, pressing his hand against his stomach as he moved away from the Ring. "You get used to it."

"I don't think so," Potter answered, turning the flower in his hand for a moment before pushing it into his bag. Then he glanced at Ronon. "Now what?"

"Now we find a place to hide," the Runner answered, glancing around. "There," he said, nodding ahead. There was a valley nearby, covered with a small, withered looking forest. It wasn't ideal, but the forest would give cover from ships and force any Wraiths to try and find him on foot - and it was always easier to set traps in forests than on open ground.

"Alright," Potter nodded, giving him a look before falling back in step with him. Ronon got the oddest impression that the man did it so that he would be conveniently close by in case Ronon's wound would show its full force and knock him out again. The Runner said nothing to it, as the other man wasn't being obtrusive and, in an odd way, it was almost as comforting as it was unnerving.

Ronon had had people looking out for him before. During the war he and his squad had been like that, constantly watching each other, following each other's steps. If one of them fell, there was someone to pick them up, usually more than just one someone. If all of them fell, then all of them waited until they could walk again. Except for the final days, of course, but no one who fell stood up again back then. Still… he hadn't forgotten what it felt like to have someone so near and actually making sure he could keep on walking.

He just had not really expected to ever have that again. And though Potter was a stranger to him, in that moment the man was that. He was odd and a little loopy and probably a bit insane after six years of exile. But he was, for now, trustworthy. Someone to count on.

Ronon had almost managed to figure out what that meant, exactly, when they reached the valley and the woods. While Potter started the plant touching and gathering again - it was starting to look like an unconscious habit rather than a conscious thing he did now - Ronon looked around for perfect place to set up camp. The woods weren't as thick as he hoped but the boulders here and there offered more sturdier cover, which partially made up for it. As they walked deeper into the small patch of forest, Ronon examined all the potential hiding places he could see, until he found the best one. Two boulders sitting next to each other, the area around them covered in bushes.

"I'll take out the bushes between those two and we can camp between them," he said, taking out his sword with a pained huff.

Potter craned his neck to see before nodding. Then, before Ronon could take a move towards the boulders, the shorter man took the sword from his hand. "Rest," he said simply and while Ronon tried to come up with the least rude way of snapping at the man for taking his weapon, he waded into the bushes and started cutting them down.

The man was right though. The walking wasn't agreeing at all with Ronon and after a moment of staring he bowed down to the need to sit down. He was good at ignoring his injuries and whatever things that made him uncomfortable or weak, but the cool weakness creeping up his knees was starting to take its toll - and his spine was aching with the strain of having forced his upper body into positions that would least stress the wound. The wound itself was aching and stinging again, a sort of twisting feeling inside him, reminding him that he was nowhere near perfectly healthy.

Stomach wounds were very annoying. He would've taken a broken arm or leg sooner than a stomach wound. At least they could be supported somehow. Ronon rubbed his abdomen gingerly and sighed. He wasn't denying how lucky he was, though. He knew with excruciating detail how easily wounds like this could kill you without a physician nearby to patch you up. If the blade had gone in a little different direction and cut something serious….

Once Potter had hacked down some of the bushes and made a clear spot between the two boulders, he returned Ronon’s sword to him and then the two of them took refuge in the simple hideout. Ronon cringed a little at how simplistic and primitive it was - but thankfully there were trees nearby to give cover from possible ships and the bushes hid them well enough. If it rained, though, they'd be in trouble. Or at least very uncomfortable.

"I should've brought a few pelts," Potter muttered, apparently thinking along the same lines. "Could've made a tent."

Ronon sighed in agreement and said nothing while leaning back against one of the boulders to ease the strain on his stomach muscles. "If we put some of the cut bushes together, they could make good enough cover," he said thoughtfully. "If it's necessary."

"Hmm," the shorter man nodded, looking around them curiously. "Do you know this planet?" he then asked.

Ronon shook his head. "Learned the address during training, but never visited," he said, looking around too. If he had been up to it, he'd already be scouting the area, making sure there were no dangerous animals around and so forth. "I only knew that it was liveable when I dialled. Now I know more."

There was a moment of silence before Potter made a decisive sort of, "Hnn" sound, and stared to unpack his things. As the Runner watched, he pulled out some of his clothes and things he probably used in cooking, pushing them underneath a groove of a boulder before placing two items beside Ronon, a wooden bowl with a lid, and a water skin. "Food, water, in case you get hungry," he said, standing up. "I'll take a look around. See if I can find something to eat while I'm at it."

Ronon nodded. "See if you can find clean water," he said as the shorter man got ready to leave. "I could use a wash," he explained. "And the water's not gonna last."

Potter paused and then nodded. "Right," he said and without further ado, he walked out of their simple hiding place.

Ronon sighed, looking after the smaller man and leaning heavily against the boulder. Being wounded was irritating. Potter was right, like this he couldn't take care of himself. Hopefully he would heal soon, though, because the longer he went under Potter's care, the more it bothered him.

Potter returned a few hours later, carrying a couple small animals that looked rather like the rabbits that lived in a forest where Ronon had learned to hunt back in Sateda. "Found food," the man said somewhat unnecessarily while dropping the dead animals near Ronon and starting to unload the things he had gathered into his bag - which turned out to be a lot. Roots, berries, nuts, a few mushrooms…. "Found a pond nearby, too," the man added. "Not exactly pure, but good enough for a wash."

Ronon nodded. "That sounds good," he mused, absently scratching his temple while eyeing the things Potter had piled beside him. "You're good at gathering," he said. He wasn't bad at it himself, but considering that they hadn't been on the planet for long and didn't know where to find things, Potter's success was rather quick.

Potter grinned. "I cheat," he said, patting his chest, where his stick was hidden somewhere. "I can find what I look for without really looking."

Ronon shook his head, partially amused and partially jealous. The more he heard about the other's talents, the more useful they seemed. He really could've used some of them before. "They're all edible?" he asked curiously, eyeing the stuff Potter had brought. He wouldn't have dared to try the mushrooms by himself - they usually took boiling and Ronon didn't really know much about mushrooms anyway, certainly not enough to risk his life eating them.

"With some work," Potter said and stood up again. "Need to get some firewood."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ronon shrugged and as the other walked away again, he looked at the foodstuff thoughtfully. It was more than he would've bothered to gather even if he had the time. Usually he settled for whatever he could eat immediately, either that or meat which could be cooked over open flame, quick and simple. Potter, though, had brought enough to make an actual meal.

While Ronon wondered if the man was going the long way because he wanted to feed Ronon, or because he himself wanted to eat a thorough meal, the shorter man returned, carrying a pile of branches. Potter had fed him simple meat the first time around; and then raw vegetables and such the next time - he hadn't actually cooked anything except for the tea later on. It had given Ronon the impression that the man was like him, eating when he was hungry whatever he had at hand. And yet… now the man was going the long way for food.

Expertly Potter piled the branches, making a circle of stones around them. He used his stick to light the fire - making Ronon wonder just how many uses did that thing have. While the fire started, too bright and not yet hot enough, Potter turned to the rabbit-like creatures. Using his stick again, he cut the skin at the belly, before supporting the dead animal against his knee and then quickly ripping the skin back before separating it and the meat with a one more tug. Then he repeated the process with the other animal with equal skill.

While watching Potter gut the rabbits and check their organs, Ronon was overwhelmed with odd nostalgia. This reminded him oddly of the time when he had been learning to hunt. It was partially because the animal was pretty much the same he had hunted in his first try, and partially because of the situation. He remembered being six years old, sitting near a fire, nursing a fresh bruise on his knee, while his grandfather went about the skinning and gutting. Potter was nothing like his grandfather, of course - too small, too skinny, too dishevelled - but still, the atmosphere of care around the man was oddly similar.

Ronon frowned, closing his eyes for a moment in order to try and disperse the mental image, while Potter took out his odd stone pot. It was starting to bother him a little. He could understand Potter's motives - the man had been alone for so long that he had more or less imprinted on the first other human he had seen. But still… even knowing that, it was a bit odd, the care the man expressed. On the whole, it was more thorough that many would've expressed towards someone they didn't know.

When he opened his eyes, the stone pot had increased three times in size, and Potter was cutting the meat apart, throwing it into the pot as he went. Ronon blinked at the new, large pot for a moment before shaking his head. Another skill with the stick, probably. He didn't really feel like asking, so he just watched as the vegetables, mushrooms and nuts joined the meat in the pot, before water was poured into it as well. Then the pot found a place over the fire, where Potter more or less left it to cook by itself.

"Why not just cook the meat over the fire?" Ronon asked after moment of silence.

"Would've burned it," the man shrugged. "Too dry - and I've gotten used to tougher meat." He turned to look at Ronon, eyes flicking up and down. "How's the wound?"

"Still there. Doesn't hurt as much when I don't move," the Runner answered.

"I could make more of the salve," Potter offered. "If it's worn off."

"It's fine," Ronon answered, shifting a little. A few more offers like that and Potter would move from the point of caring and start being coddling, and he wasn't really a man who liked coddling. "Were you like this back on your world?"

"Like what?"

Ronon considered it for a moment. "Caring," he then said. "Were you studying to be a healer?"

Potter blinked and then shook his head with a faint grin. "No. Wanted to be an Auror, actually," he said, which really doesn't tell Ronon much. The smaller man seemed to notice that because he continued, "Auror's a sort of like a soldier, I guess. Peace-keeper, hunts criminals and so forth," he explained. "I was going to study for it. But…" he shrugged his shoulders, making a broad motion around them.

Ronon give the other man a thoughtful look and then shook his head. "A soldier, huh," he muttered. Potter was too small and too skinny to make a proper soldier. But then, six years in exile, living on what he could hunt or gather… it would be difficult to get extra weight like that.

"Well, it was back then," Potter mused. "I was pretty often in the hospital wing in school, though. I guess I picked up a thing or two."

"Trouble maker?" the taller asked with a faint grin. He had known a few during his time in school, too.

"Trouble seeker," Potter answered with a shrug and answering grin. "What about you?" he then asked, looking Ronon up and down, from his roughly sectioned matted hair, down to the combat boots with glance given to the knuckle spikes and various visible weapons.

"Military training is traditional in Sateda. Everyone goes through it. Went through it," Ronon answered. It wasn't really an answer though. Before he had started his training at age of thirteen, he hadn't really thought he'd end up staying in the military. He had had other plans, other interests and had been intending to quit after the four obligatory years of service. But… things had escalated - and only two years into extended service, the Wraith had come.

"Hmm. If my people had had the same sort of traditions, maybe…" Potter murmured before trailing away and shaking his head.

Sensing that the conversation had gotten a little too reflective for both of them, Ronon coughed softly and shifted into more comfortable position. "How long till that stew's done?"

"A while," Potter answered and they fell into an odd, partially awkward and still oddly comfortable silence, listening to the crackling of the fire and waiting until they could fill their stomachs.

 

* * *

 

Two days went by surprisingly quickly on the planet with a lot of hills. The rhythm of those two days was haphazard and oddly consistent and Ronon wasn't all that sure how, but it was almost… expected. Like something practiced and perfected over years, rather than improvised within a few days.

They slept in turns, now that Ronon no longer was in the state where he passed out after every little thing. Potter slept less than he ought to, but by the looks of the shadows beneath his eyes, it was nothing new so Ronon never commented on it. It seemed to work well enough and Potter wasn't complaining, so why fix something that wasn't broken?

When they weren't sleeping, they were seeing onto other things. Potter took up the matter of food without a whisper, without a word of acknowledgement - acting almost like it was natural. He hunted, he gathered whatever edibles there was to find. He also took care of Ronon's wound, washing the bandages, changing them, making more of his almost-miraculous-healing-salve… and he did it all without a complaint.

Meanwhile, Ronon took care of their security. He set up some of his usual traps and scouted the area to check escape routes through the forest as well as the best places to take cover in, and such. If the Wraith came, and they would eventually, he didn't want to get lost on the wrong side of the hill where the Ring of the Ancestors was - nor did he want to get caught in a shootout without something to work as cover. The whole process took longer than it usually would've, thanks to the fact that he had to be mindful of the wound all the time, but he got it done.

"You do this on every world?" Potter asked while hovering behind his shoulder, watching him set the traps.

"Every world," Ronon confirmed while tightening a simple rope on a tree branch. The traps were all overly simplistic, but that was why they worked. It also helped that the Wraith didn't know about the traps. Every Wraith that had gotten caught in one hadn't lived to tell the tale, after all. "For as long as they hunt me, I hunt them back."

"And if they stop?"

Ronon grinned ferally at the smaller man. "I'll keep on hunting them."

It was only once he had readied the forest and explained to Potter the routes they would take if they needed to escape - most which were trapped so that whoever came after them would get caught - that he could concentrate on other things. Usually, when he was alone, this would've been the point where he would've concentrated on finding food and tending to his wounds, but with Potter taking care of those aspects, he turned to something he hadn't done in about month and half.

After Potter had checked the wound and done something with his stick to turn the bandage water-proof, Ronon made his way to the pond in order to wash himself and some of his clothes. The water was almost icy and probably not the best thing to immerse in when weakened by a serious injury, but Ancestors if it wasn't welcome. It was so enjoyable in fact; that he didn't even bother feeling annoyed when Potter took his dirty clothes and started washing them while he washed himself.

"Been a while?" Potter asked while soaking one of Ronon's worn undershirts in the water.

"Hmm. Don't get many safe chances," Ronon shrugged and ducked his head under the water. He kept clean, of course, washing the most important places whenever he got the chance, but the opportunities to soak fully - or better yet, to wash his hair - weren't exactly common. Or safe. Washing meant undressing, undressing meant being without weapons - and being without a weapon was not a very secure state for him to be. It wasn't safe right then, either, but Potter was there and that gave security Ronon wouldn't have otherwise had.

"I don't imagine you would," Potter murmured, lifting the shirt up and eyeing it for a moment before dropping it under water again and starting to rub it with his fingers in order to get worst of the stains off. The lack of soap went unmentioned by both of them.

"Hn," Ronon shrugged in answer and rubbed his scalp in somewhat useless attempt to get whatever dirt there was in there off. He could feel grains of sand grinding against his skin and grimaced, thankful that at least he had been able to avoid lice and such so far. He ducked his head under the water again, rubbing his scalp to try and get the sand off. He would need to do some maintenance with his hair, soon. The roots were starting to feel loose.

The matter of washing went without further incident and Potter managed to even clean his leathers without doing much damage to them. After they headed back to the hideout, the day continued as the previous one had gone, in semi-comfortable silence which was only broken by a quiet query every now and then about the wound or about food. They spent the night under the shelter of the makeshift roof made from branches and leaves, one keeping vigil while the other rested.

The biggest problem Ronon had with the situation was the fact that it would have to end. Soon. Ronon was in a better state now and thought the wound was still there, it had closed well enough and the bandages didn't need to be changed so often anymore. It was only a matter of time before he wouldn't need the bandages at all.  And two, going on three days without a whisper from the Wraith meant that it was only a matter of time before they would come again….

"I think you should go," he said in the morning of their third day in the hill-planet.

Potter glanced at him and frowned, not needing to ask what he meant. "You're not healed yet," he then said with finality and looked away as if that was enough to end the conversation.

"The wound's closed and I can manage by myself now," Ronon answered, frowning back. He shifted where he sat, absently fingering his gun's handle. "It's only matter of time before the Wraith come. It'd be best if you left before they did."

Potter shook his head without facing him but didn't say anything for a while. After a moment of silence, which Ronon didn't break in hope of the other man making the right choice by himself, Potter squeezed his hands into fists and looked up. "I'm staying," he muttered, low and insistent.

"No, you're not," Ronon answered. He understood where the other was coming from, hell, he shared the sentiment in a way. After so long, company could be…. But still. "I'll show you a few addresses, you can pick a world among them," he said gruffly, and looked away. "It'll be better for you that way."

Potter answered by shaking his head. "No," he said standing up. "I don't --"

The blast of bluish white came seemingly from nowhere, catching Potter to the back of his head and making him jerk with the impact. Ronon's eyes widened momentarily, before instinct kicked in and even as the slim man fell to his knees and then collapsed to the ground, he sped up to movement. Intuition more than conscious thought made him immediately roll out of the line of fire and behind the boulder, gun already in one hand, knife in the other.

He spared a glance at the fallen man, before trying to figure where and how far the Wraith was. There was nothing he could do for Potter now, and the man was fine - Wraith didn't use lethal hand-weapons. Finding the Wraith was more important. It couldn't be too far, the stunner blasts lost strength the farther they travelled, and this had knocked Potter out immediately. Ronon frowned. He had seen the area a few times now, and memorised the outlay of trees, bushes and nearby boulders. The Wraith had cover. Too much cover, and it knew his position.

He glanced at his unconscious companion once more, before grimacing and moving out from the refuge of the boulder. More whitish blasts sped past him as he ran into the forest, all the while keeping an eye on the direction where the fire was coming from, determining the location of the Wraith. There was only one, thankfully, probably had come through the gate as he hadn't heard a ship. That was good for him.

He doubled back, skipping between bushes, trees and boulders to keep in cover, before he got the Wraith in his line of sight. The Wraith was making his way towards the hiding spot where Potter lay, his stunner aimed at the area around him in hopes of catching Ronon, probably. Ronon grimaced and hurriedly aimed his gun at the Wraith, but just as he was about to shoot, the monster ducked under the cover of the boulders.

"Shit," the Runner muttered and ran forward, gun held steadily in front of him, ready to fire. His stomach stung and twisted and there was the sweat of pain on his brow, but ignoring it all was easy now that he had adrenaline pumping in his veins.

The Wraith was young. Too young. At the sight of Potter it got immediately excited and rolled the small man over, intending to have a meal - and in so doing, bared his back to Ronon. Not willing to risk it, the Runner immediately took a shot, twice just to be sure, and watched how the Wraith collapsed to the ground beside his companion.

Kicking the Wraith away from Potter, Ronon kept his weapon in one hand and bent to check his companion. The fur shawl had saved the man, both when he had collapsed and now. It had kept him from injuring himself as he fell and then the Wraith hadn't been able to immediately feed - too much clothing covering the man's chest. "This is why you ought to go," Ronon muttered, knowing how lucky they had been. One more Wraith - or one with more experience than this one - and they would've been in trouble.

He glanced away from the unconscious man before starting to throw their things together. Two Wraiths on foot in a row, two easy battles in a row. They'd send more the next time, or they'd send ships. Maybe both at the same time, ships to distract him while a group of Wraiths tried to hunt him down. And this wasn't the place for it - the terrain was too simple and there was too much open space around the forest where they were staying. Not a good place at all.

After packing their bags, he threw his own over his shoulders before tying Potter's bag to the man's stomach, more or less. Then he hoisted the limp man into his arms, hissing as the weight and strain made his wound throb. Thankfully Potter was small and slim, lighter than many women would've been, and he could actually carry him.

"After this, you need to leave," the Runner muttered before starting to make for the Ring.

 

* * *

 

By the time Potter woke up, Ronon had already taken them to a new world. This one had the Ring of the ancestors mounted on a pedestal on a mountainside, which Ronon found somewhat fortunate. The terrain was plain nightmares with slopes and rocky ledges and barely any flat surface at all. Finding a place to stay had taken time, but he had managed to find a cave like alcove about half an hour's walk from the Ring, which shielded them from both the elements and from being seen.

"Wraith found us. You were stunned," the Runner said, seeing his companion open his eyes. Potter groaned, trying to sit up. He only managed to get up partially before the numbness kicked in and he fell down again. Ronon smirked. "Took a blast to the back of your head. It'll take a few hours before you can move."

Potter looked at him silently for a moment before sighing and closing his eyes. "Lovely," he mumbled, voice loose and too relaxed, a side effect of being stunned. After a moment of silence, he opened his eyes again and looking around. "Different place," he noted, swallowing.

"Yeah," Ronon shrugged and reached for the water skin. "Water?" he asked.

"Please," Potter nodded, and Ronon helped him to take a drink. Some of it spilled against the smaller man's messy short beard, but neither took any note of it. "Another planet?" Potter asked while Ronon put the skin away.

"Yeah. I don't stick around on planets I've encountered the Wraith in. It's not too safe," the Runner answered. "This place has better terrain than the last one," he added nodding towards the gorge opening just a little past the threshold of their make-shift cave. "Difficult to move in, no place to land.... Harder for them to get here. Especially once I've set up a few traps."

Potter nodded, shifting a little until he was leaning against a stone wall behind him in a loose, almost seated position. He looked at his legs for a moment, apparently trying to move them, before giving up and looking at Ronon instead. "You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," the Runner said, brushing his hand over his aching stomach. "You hungry?"

"Wouldn't be able to keep anything in right now. Maybe later," Potter answered, closing his eyes and swallowing again. Then he shook his head and shifted where he sat, trying to move again. "I'm fine. Go set your traps."

Ronon for a moment considered arguing and staying to keep an eye on the man. But in the end he figured it was probably best that he did go set the traps. For one, they needed the security. And for two, Potter probably wanted a moment to himself, to regain his mobility in private. So, the Runner just nodded, packed everything he needed and headed off, leaving the smaller man to figure out his problems by himself.

He probably should've stayed put for a moment. The wound had opened and was twisting again in that annoying way every time he moved - sitting down and giving it a moment would've probably been best. But he ignored it while checking the terrain, finding all the possible ways a Wraith on foot would have to take to get to their hideout, and set traps there. The next time he needed to go to one of the planets where he knew Wraith tracking didn't work so well. Someplace with weird atmosphere or something like that.

By the time he returned to the hideout, Potter had gotten at least the mobility of his hands back, as he was grinding herbs when Ronon got there. "Found any firewood?" the smaller man asked while adding some water into the mix and continuing to grind.

"Wasn't looking, but no. This place's too rocky for plants and such," Ronon answered and frowned. That could actually be bad now that he thought of it. He hadn't seen any water either. "How much food we got?"

"Enough for a few days," Potter answered. "If we ration. I can try finding more once I can walk again."

Ronon nodded. It was easier to leave the food thing to the other - Potter was good at that. He had the thing with the stick he could do which made things fly at him, things he wanted to find - like food. Ronon had seen him pulling vegetables right out of the ground with that thing. "After that, you should go," he said. It would be hard finding food without Potter, but... he had managed it before.

"I'm not going," the smaller man answered.

"Yes, you are. It's not safe," Ronon answered.

"You think I was safe before?" the other asked, raising his eyebrows. Ronon frowned and then conceded the point - Potter had been living years among enormous beasts after all. Even with the controlling trick, that couldn't have been safe. "I can handle myself," Potter said, shaking his head. "You don't need to worry."

"I'm not," Ronon started and then stopped. He was and wasn't, actually. The point was the fact that he didn't like the idea of forcing someone to go through the same life he was going through, even if they did it of their own volition. "You didn't handle yourself against the Wraith," he said finally, frowning.

"You were there, and I'm fine," Potter shrugged.

"If I hadn't been there --" Ronon stopped mid speech. If he hadn't been there, Potter would be dead now. But on the other hand…. If he hadn't been there, the Wraith wouldn't have come at all. And Potter would be still on the planet with the felines. And Ronon himself would probably be dead because of the stomach wound. He grimaced and rubbed his forehead, trying to forestall a headache. "The Wraith will keep on coming. This planet, the next planet, every planet I go to."

"Yes," Potter agreed, turning his attention to the herb mixture again.

"You'll get killed, running with me."

"Don't have much of a life to live," the other answered, shaking his head. "Besides. I've only encountered the Wraith twice. I'll learn."

"You could have a life. On some planet with people on it," Ronon answered. "Lot of planets take in refugees. And with your herbal knowledge...."

"I wouldn't know how to live like that," Potter cut in, shaking his head again. "I know... this," he said, motioning around them. "Running, finding food, tending to wounds, trying to manage - I know _this_. Living with people, I..." he trailed away, shaking his head. "Last time I joined a foreign society, they ended up exiling me for something I didn't do. I don't...."

"No one says it won't happen again, but no one can tell that it will, either," Ronon answered, frowning. Last time Potter had joined a foreign society? What did that mean? "You could learn to live with people just as easy as you could learn to fight the Wraith. Easier," he said seriously. "If I got the change, I would go."

"And you'd fit in?" Potter asked, his voice flat and almost cold.

"I'd try," the Runner growled, glaring now.

The smaller man answered his stare calmly before looking away. "Am I such bad company?" he finally asked.

"That's not it," Ronon snarled, because it wasn't. Potter was good company, too good. And that was the problem. He was so much like Ronon himself was that being around the man was easy - and worse yet, the man made Ronon's life easier. Potter didn't ask too much, didn't demand anything, didn't talk too much and, worse yet, he offered things without demanding anything in return. Food, care, company, all the things Ronon had missed so _much_ on the run.... It would've been so good to have the man around.

"You could have a better life," the Runner said. He couldn't ruin another's life, another's chance of a better life. And more than that, he couldn't allow himself to get adjusted to this. Couldn't let himself get soft.

"I don't want one," Potter answered, shaking his head and adding something into the herb mixture. "Good life turns bad. Bad life can only get better."

Ronon sighed and looked away. That was probably the point with Potter. His life had been bad before - lonely and rough. Then Ronon had come along and suddenly, after six years of perfect solitude, the man had another human to talk to. "And in that war fought and lost, and in those streets painted in red; a friend's hand that makes a toast can make it a victory instead," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Potter asked confusedly.

Ronon shook his head, not really able or willing to explain it, even if it fit. During the war with the Wraith, life had been worse that he had ever imagined it could be. He had lost everything in that war; friends, family, home, everything. Everyone had. But there had been times in the battles, when someone in his squad would laugh or tell a crude joke or curse the Wraith, and the entire squad would agree or laugh with him... and for a moment it hadn't seemed so bad. This... was kind of like that.

Except it was all wrong.

"You sure?" he finally asked. He should've pressed on. The long time alone had addled Potter's mind and he wasn't thinking straight - he didn't even realise that he should want something better. And Ronon, as the clearer minded one, should've made him see the light, should've forced him. Except Ronon was so Ancestor-damned tired of being alone too.

The smaller man eyed him steadily for a moment, and said slowly, "Yes."

The subject wasn't brought up again.

 

* * *

 

While everything changed, nothing really did. That was the part of the whole thing which, in the end, made the whole situation really sinks in for Ronon. After three years he wasn't alone anymore and though it should've made a huge difference, the difference it made was… almost not even there. Things were _easier_ now, sure, and he had company, of course, but the essentials remained the same. The Wraith came eventually and he had to run away again, and make a new hideout on a new planet where he once more set his traps and sat to wait. Just like always. Only now, Potter was there, running at his side, learning how to make traps from him, and making food for them at the end of the day.

While the wound closed and they perfected the art of running and hiding in duet, Ronon learned a few things about his new companion.

First; Potter had incredibly bad eyesight. He could see clearly only a foot away from his face, and that was about it - hence the constant squinting. "I used to have glasses," the small man said, rubbing his eyes, tired after lot of squinting no doubt. "They corrected my vision. But I lost them about a month into my exile. I think some animal ate them, because I couldn't summon them again."

Second; Potter was fast on his feet, but he couldn't run far. In sprinting, he left Ronon in his dust which was not a bad thing whenever the Wraith came. However, if they needed to run far, Potter tired easily. Ronon attributed this to lack of practice and muscle mass, and intended to correct the faults there, before realising that a man with Potter's frame would never be exactly muscular. The man was too small - petite, was probably the right word for Potter. He was meant for speed, but not durability.

Which led to three; Potter would never be good at bare-handed combat. Ronon tried to instruct him in a few methods of weapon-less combat, only to find that his companion was simply too weak for it. In other words, during their first training session he accidentally almost broke the smaller man's arm - twice. It was a mix of bad physical attributes that ended the session short; Potter had bad coordination, he was clumsy, he lacked the physical strength and finally, by Satedan standards he had weak bones.

Point three however led into the point four; with a little training, no one would ever beat Potter in a shootout. Ronon found that while trying to instruct Potter how to avoid being shot - and then demonstrated it by setting his gun to stun and shooting at the man in hopes of the man learning of to tell where gun fire was coming from and how to duck out of the line of fire. Potter got annoyed after the third blast had sped past his shoulder, did something with his stick - and the next red blast of energy from Ronon's gun bounced right back at him. "Shield," the smaller man said when Ronon had woken up, both smug and annoyed.

The lack of proper eyesight was even more of a hindrance when Ronon realised that aside from moving things with his stick, or making them change sizes, or creating a shield, Potter could also use the thing almost like an energy blaster. A demonstration from the slight man had ended with one exploded boulder, one which was split in three parts and one which had been stripped of its top layer completely. The only thing keeping Ronon from getting excited over his companion's abilities was the fact that the targets had to be as wide as Ronon was tall for the smaller man to actually see them from afar.

All of that had, however, pointed out one glaring weakness in Potter. Not just his lack of physical prowess but the stick - wand as the smaller man called it. It was incredibly powerful tool to have, and Ronon often found himself as jealous of it and Potter's unique ability as people were often of his gun. However, it was made of _wood_. And not even particularly strong wood. One wrong move, one unfortunate snap, and Potter was completely helpless.

"Do you have to hold the thing in your hand for it to work?" Ronon asked thoughtfully on their fifth planet, where Potter had displayed some of his more hostile skills.

"I'm not sure," Potter answered, eyeing the stick thoughtfully. "I've never tried to use it any other way."

"Try. Hold it in the crook of your elbow or something, and try," Ronon commanded, getting an idea. With Potter waving the thing in his fingers, the stick was vulnerable, too vulnerable. It was easy to take away, easy to break… hell, it was a miracle Potter hadn't simply lost the thing somewhere along the way. And with as much running as they needed to do, holding one's weapons so flimsily wouldn't do.

With a bemused shake of his head, Potter peeled his sleeve back and supported the wand between his upper arm and forearm. With somewhat disbelieving look, he aimed the stick clumsily at a nearby rock and muttered a word underneath his breath, a spell. Nothing happened, and with a frown the small man shifted his hold so that his inner wrist was towards his shoulder. Then tried again. This time, the wand sputtered out a blast of red light, which impacted the rock and turned it immediately purple.

Potter squinted at the new purple rock and let out a thoughtful, "Huh," before turning to Ronon. "I guess I don't have to hold it. What about it?"

Ronon didn't answer immediately, instead taking Potter's right hand into his and pushing the sleeve back. While the smaller man gave him a confused look, he examined the shape of his inner arm, ignoring the numerous scars there. The man had a rather straight inner arm, barely any hint of a curve usually made by muscle or fat. A by-product of not eating more than enough to survive. "If this was strapped here…" the Runner said, taking the stick from the other man's hand and pressing it against his bare inner arm. "Could you use it?"

Potter looked down to his arm and the stick. "Maybe," he then said, neither a _yes_ nor a _no_. He shifted his hand, holding the wand against his inner arm. "Would be harder to aim."

"What about spells?" Ronon asked. They needed some of Potter's spells to live comfortably - the one with which he could summon things to him kept them easily fed and another was useful for finding things, like sources of water or the Ring of the Ancestors if they got lost by some chance. And of course, Potter's shield would keep him alive and safe from stunner blasts during a fight, which was also useful.

"Probably. Don't know unless I try," Potter answered and then glanced at the taller man. Then he looked down to the arm. "Why, though?"

"Because that thing is too vulnerable the way you use it now," Ronon answered. "And without it you're useless. A strap - or an arm guard - would keep it safe."

Potter hummed thoughtfully and then nodded. "It's worth a try."

They - or Ronon, as Potter was going along with him more to humour him than because he agreed with his sentiments - decided to make a pair of guards as just a single one on a single arm would seem curious. The guards were made from the skin of a deer Potter caught later that week - and thankfully the tanning process wasn't as messy, smelly or time taking as it usually was with Potter's skills to clean and change things. In the end, though, Ronon ended up doing most of the leather work - Potter could sew and work leather, but he didn't know a thing about toughening it. Ronon used some of his spare metal mesh, kept around for just this sort of purposes, to add extra strength to the arm guards so that they would protect Potter's rather thin arms from harm. The longer the Runner knew the man, the more it seemed like he needed a little bit of extra protection.

The wand was secured first against the arm with a separate strap just to be sure, and the guard was fit over it, a groove in it made especially for the wand to fit in. Outwardly there was no difference with the arm guards, which was what Ronon had been aiming for. Aiming, however, was something Potter found hard after the change.

"I'm used to doing it with my fingers. Now I need to do it with the whole arm," Potter murmured after almost starting a bushfire. "The spells come out right, but they don't go where I want them to go. Seems clumsy."

"You'll learn. Or not. You can't see where you're aiming anyway, so there's not much of a difference," Ronon grinned, patting the other's shoulder.

"I can aim at you, when you're close enough," the smaller man grumbled.

"And that's all we need."

All the little difficulties involved with Potter were however outweighed by all the benefits. The herb knowledge was invaluable - they got injured often, not just fighting and running but, well, running into things more often than not. And whenever one of them got sick, the herbal mixtures saved them from lengthy healing periods. The first aid knowledge wasn't too useless either - Ronon knew some himself, but it always helped to have someone who could bandage the places you couldn't reach, like his back.

But what Ronon later thought was the reason why Potter was invaluable was the food. Ronon hunted now and then when there was an opportune moment, but mostly Potter did it for both of them. He also cooked for both of them, which Ronon found to be the perfect arrangement, especially later on. He suspected that before Potter hadn't had much of an incentive for cooking - like Ronon he had eaten whatever was edible and that had been it. But as days turned into weeks and then into months, Potter started to put some effort into it.

"Helps having spices," Potter shrugged, when Ronon pointed this out. The Runner didn't ask where exactly the other man had gotten the spices - it was useless. Potter gathered almost everything all the time, without pause - every world the first thing he did was plant gathering. It was no wonder if some spices had managed to worm their way into Potter's bag at some point.

Although, the whole gathering thing seemed more than annoying when they arrived on a planet where the gate was surrounded by a field of some sort of prickly hay. Potter had taken one look at the spiky, rather unappealing looking plants, before starting to bundle them into rather large wads. Ronon spent an annoyed afternoon setting traps alone while Potter ferried his plants back in their newest campsite. But when the Runner had returned, their hideout had been surrounded by a mouth-watering smell that had made his annoyance fade a little. Potter, who had been sitting by a rather weird looking pile of stones that almost entirely covered the fire it sat upon, had said only one thing that had made Ronon forgive him all the wrongs he had ever done, or would ever do.

"I made bread."

It was a flat and odd, scratchy sort of bread that made the back of Ronon's throat itch, and it had too much salt in it - and Potter had burned it on one side. It was still the most delicious thing Ronon had tasted in years.

But, as much as Ronon would've preferred, their life wasn't anywhere near optimal. The Wraith eventually noticed that Ronon had company, and then instead of the previous one Wraith on foot they sent after him, the standard turned into two to three Wraiths. They weren't always working in a team - more often than not, they were working separately like it was some sort of chase of which one of them would get Ronon and Potter first. Sometimes they even worked against each other, trying to slow each other down. But still, too often the Wraiths were working as a team. And very bad things happened when Wraith hunted in groups.

Half a year into the run with Potter at his side, he almost lost the man. Three Wraiths on foot and two ships circling around them with culling beams sweeping the forest - the situation was one of the worst Ronon had been in since the war on his world. They managed to avoid the culling beams, Ronon even managed to take out one of the two Wraiths on their way to the gate, when a stunner blast caught his legs and sent him to the ground.

The two Wraiths were upon them a second later, the soldier aiming for Ronon while the commander aimed for the smaller Potter. Ronon just managed to kill the soldier Wraith before it got the chance to try and feed on him, but the struggle to get out from beneath the creature cost him precious seconds - and during those seconds, the other Wraith had managed to get its hand under Potter's shawl.

Potter didn't scream, but the look in his eyes when Ronon killed the Wraith was full of such unadulterated relief that the Runner couldn't look at him in the eye for a while.

"I've been… I know pain," Potter said later, tone quiet. "I've been tortured. There's a way in my world to do it, a spell that causes pain. It's enough to drive people mad…" he trained away, pulling back his sleeve and eying the scars on his forearm. "And back… back on the planet I was exiled to, I…. Before I started using Imperius, the cats…."

"Yeah," Ronon muttered. He had seen the other without clothes during the rare chances to wash - the slim man had a lot of cuts and bite marks. More than a person would've been able to survive without Potter's medicinal knowledge.

"I've never felt my _life_ being sucked away," the short man whispered, touching his chest where, underneath the fur shawl, he had a new wound, a new scar-to-be. Ronon said nothing. There was really nothing anyone could say to that.

After that Potter had a completely different approach to the Wraith. Ronon didn't know whether it was good or bad. Potter could now throw a severing spell at a Wraith without a flinch, and not even bat an eye as the creature spilled its blood and guts to the ground beneath him. The small man no longer expressed any annoyance towards the combat lessons; he even started carrying a knife or two of his own. It was good - Potter wasn't held back anymore by the uneasiness of before and could protect himself more fully. Still… oddly enough, Ronon would've preferred that the other remained uneasy.

But that was a luxury no one could have in a galaxy like theirs. So, in the end, Ronon taught him how to use blades and where to aim on a Wraith - and on a human - to end a fight quickly. Potter learned, slowly but steadily. What he lost in strength he gained in speed and precision - and, eventually, in determination. That was probably what made him in the end tie his messy hair back and away from his face and shave his messy beard off completely. Beneath the messiness Ronon found sharp green eyes and resolute features - and a man who would one day be as lethal as he was, or more.

And a friend he hadn't had in longer than he dared to try and count.

 

* * *

 

Months eventually turned into years. They weren't perfect years, not even nearly, but they were better than Ronon's first years on the run. The first year passed without much celebration, and day by day, week by week, the second one went along just as the first one had. Running, fighting, and running a little more, a little further, a little faster. It became a routine, a day to day thing, a normalcy. Easy as anything they faced the Wraith with their backs pressed together, and pushed each other along as they raced for the Ring, for another world.

Ronon learned that Potter had been an orphan most of his life and had once had two good friends, but that he couldn't remember their faces anymore. He himself told Potter about his grandparents and how they had taught him to fight and that he had once lived with a woman who he had intended to wed. The Runner also learned that Potter's world was divided into two, the normal people and then the ones with Potter's talents, and that he had been part of the first longer than he had been part of the second, before the second one had exiled him. In exchange for learning about that, Ronon told Potter about Sateda and its history and the war between clans and the Satedan victory over Vetariss, long ago.

There were still things they never talked about - and days they never talked at all, weeks even. But that was fine. Ronon had memories he wanted to keep to himself and he could tell Potter felt pretty much the same for some of the things in his past. And, though it was nice to have someone who knew you and understood you, in the end… none of it really meant much. On the run, memories of days long gone could only slow you down, and that was never good. Even if the stories did sometimes make the days seem a little lighter.

They ran and ran and ran. Worlds blended into each other and Ronon didn't need to ask if Potter eventually got used to it. Everything else blended too, fights, miles, Rings…. At some point Ronon noticed that he couldn't imagine his life without Potter running at his side in his old, ragged fur shawl. Could barely remember what it had been like before. But then, he didn't really want to.

Two years into running with countless fights, kills and worlds behind them, they ran into people. A world Ronon knew for sure to be empty, having visited before, wasn't. The Ring, which was in middle of a grassy field, was surrounded by tents and flags - and people. Women, men, children, walking among the tents, some staring at the Ring and them. For one wide eyed moment, Ronon though he was dreaming. Potter seemed to think so too, as he had shocked look about his face.

"I thought this place was empty?" the smaller man said as the Ring's glow dissipated around them and the people around the gate returned to their interests as if they were nothing special.

"It was, the last time," Ronon muttered, and caught sight of a man sitting on top of a barrel not far from the Ring. "Hey, you there. Since when have you lived here?" he demanded to know.

"Since last week," the man said, holding a long pipe in one hand and nursing a tankard in another. He stood up, swaying a little. "Will be gone soon, I imagine," he added, walking closer to them, squinting at them. "You didn't expect us, hm?" the man asked, narrowing his eyes. "Didn't come to trade. What you here for then?"

"Trade?" Ronon murmured and then looked around. "You're the nomads?" he asked as he recognised some of the tents.

"Nomads?" Potter asked.

"They travel from world to world. Kind of like we do," Ronon answered, still looking around. "I ran into them four years back when they were just leaving a planet. Bargained a decent pair of boots from one of them." It had been one of the few rare cases when he had met people after he had become a Runner and not had the guilt of bringing the Wraith upon later on. Nomads moved around as much as he did, so the Wraith never caught them.

"Listen," Ronon said, turning to the nomad. "I'm a Runner." He didn't say anything more, he didn't need to. Most people knew what a Runner was - and the misfortune that followed.

"Ho?" the man mumbled, squinting. "A Runner, eh? All sort of trouble, Runners bring," he muttered and then turned away. He lifted his tankard and whistled sharply between his teeth. "Oi, folks! Listen up! We got two Runners here!"

The comfortable buzz of conversation halted around the tents, and people turned to look at them. "They just came, huh?" someone asked a little further away. "I heard the Ring; that was them?"

"We just came, yeah," Ronon answered, making a motion towards Potter whose hand twitched slightly forward - a move that to anyone else would seem nothing but a nervous gesture, as they didn't know about the man's wand.

"How often do the Wraith come at you?" someone else asked, glancing between them and the Ring.

"Anything from a day to a few weeks," Ronon answered, shaking his head. "Last time was two hours ago on another planet," he added.

The people around them mumbled and went back to whatever they had been doing. A few called to others to start packing this or that just in case. Ronon listened with partial wonder and beside him Potter had a look of bewilderment on his face. The smaller man glanced up at him. "They're not kicking us out," he said softly.

"Yeah," Ronon muttered, shaking his head. They hadn't kicked him out the last time either - they had just left, though not before letting him buy some things and enjoy a warm meal. That was probably the nomad way - they moved around so often that they didn't have to worry about things like Runners bringing Wraith down on them - they simply left before any harm was done. "Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can buy stuff from these guys."

"Do we have anything to pay with?" Potter asked, falling comfortably in step with him.

"Let's find out."

It was hard to tell which one of them was more uncomfortable with the situation, him or Potter. It was somewhat bizarre, to be around people all of a sudden, especially when they knew he was a Runner and didn't seem to care much. It was nice too. Almost dream-like in a way. But still, having people around him, in front of him - behind him - when he was used to having only Potter there… it was also unnerving.

Potter seemed to think so too, because he was half a step closer to Ronon than he usually was. "I could use a pair of proper shoes," the man muttered.

"You need shoes, handsome?" a female voice called from a tent nearby, which had an assortment of leather works on display. "I got some shoes on sale. You got anything to pay with?"

Potter hesitated and after a moment Ronon pushed his companion towards the tent. Potter only had sort of leather socks which he replaced every other month - they barely protected his feet at all, and made running at times almost hazardous to his health. He really needed proper footwear. "Let's see the wares," Ronon demanded.

"Alright, alright," the woman smiled, rubbing her hands together before lifting a few pairs of boots onto the counter. "Might not be the right size, but with some padding they ought to be a proper fit. Certainly better than those," she added, glancing down to Potter's feet. "So, you two hotshots got anything to pay with?"

Ronon thought about it. Most what they had was what they desperately needed - clothing, weapons and that was more or less it. Unless Potter had some herbs stored away in one of his bags, he usually did… "You got any of that salve of yours?" Ronon asked, glancing at Potter who was examining the shoes.

"Salve? I'm not interested in lubricants," the woman answered with a filthy grin. "Though I imagine it might be useful between you two."

"Funny, but no," Ronon answered, nudging Potter's side until the other man brought out a carefully polished wooden jar. "Healing salve," Ronon said, leaning forward. "The kind you won't find just anywhere."

"Oh, really?" the merchant asked, peering at the clear salve. "What's innit? What does it do?"

Ronon nudged his companion's side and Potter, all the while giving the woman a slightly unnerved look, spoke out. "It takes away pain and keeps wounds from getting infected," he said, dipping his finger into the salve and taking the woman's hand, before smearing some of the salve to the back of her hand. "Numbs skin within an inch's distance. Works better against burns than cuts, the numbing, but was initially made for cuts. You can use it for stiff muscles too, but that's a waste of good salve."

"Really," the woman murmured, examining her hand with a curious look. "You make this? From what?"

"Lot of plants I don't know the name of," Potter shrugged. "Takes months to gather the ingredients at times. Not all planets have the right plants."

Ronon hid a grin. Not a bad sales pitch. "Like I said, you can't find this stuff just anywhere," he said, taking the jar and screwing the lid back on. He held it in his hand. "One tenth of this for boots that fit him," he said, nodding towards his companion.

"One _tenth_? You have to be joking. That stuff isn't so miraculous - anyone can make stuff that cleans wounds," the woman snorted in answer, and folded her hands. "I'll take the whole thing for a pair of boots. I'll throw in some padding to make them fit too - it's a bargain."

"With the whole jar I could buy your whole stall. One eight, and I'll take the padding too," Ronon answered, and so it went on. Potter glanced between them before shaking his head and examining the boots instead, weighting them and checking the insides. While Ronon bargained, he even tried a few of the boots on, before selecting a pair.

"One quarter. I won't go for any less," the woman finally said, a price Ronon could easily agree on. She quickly fetched a small glass container and with a spoon they measured a one fourth of the salve, before Potter could pull the boots on. Ronon saw him smooth his hand over the length of the boots while murmuring something, which in answer to the spell changed the shape to be more fitting to the man, but he was the only one who noticed it.

"Anything else I could interest you two in?" the woman asked, motioning around the tent. "Belts, buckles, bags, I got a good selection here."

"We're set. Thanks," Ronon said, while Potter took a few steps to adjust to the new boots.

"Well then. Pleasure doing business with you, boys. Definitely a pleasure," the woman grinned, before turning to beckon some other customers to her tent.

"Good?" Ronon asked his companion while Potter pushed the salve back into his bag along with his former footwear.

"Better," the shorter man nodded. "Thanks. Now what?"

"I could use a few new blades, maybe a mirror - and some food would be good. Or ale."  He'd give half a limb for some good ale. "You need anything?"

"Bottles, jars, containers. Wood's not too good for storing ointments," Potter said. "An actual pan would be nice too."

That Ronon could agree with. "Let's see if there's any on sale."

He found four new knives and a hand mirror for which he traded what little valuables he had left. He also traded one of his older knives for a few planks of thin metal which would be good for reinforcing armour. They also found a suitable pan for making food and Potter got his jars and bottles, sold by an old couple who kept a pharmacy tent. He traded a small wooden jar for them - a jar filled with a salve he and Ronon used to stop healing wounds from scarring badly. "Good for smoothing out wrinkles too," Potter finished the explanation and didn't give any of the ingredients away despite many curious enquiries.

"Food," Ronon decided. As they entered a tent where a man was working at an odd, large pan while a woman served food and drinks, most of the tents around them were starting to close and wrap things up - a few had already left through the Ring, even.

Using his last coin to buy them platefuls of a fried mixture of vegetables and bird meat, and tankards of slightly watered ale, Ronon sat down with his companion. Potter made a face at the ale, but ate the food with enthusiasm. Ronon, eating just as enthusiastically as him, kept his eyes on their surroundings and soon noticed that though people were being easy going about them, they were still being kept an eye on. Most of the people in the tent were hyper-aware of them, at least - some were even blatantly staring at them.

"Runners, hm?" one man nearby asked curiously, sizing them up with an open gaze. "Both of you? How long have you been running?"

"Just me," Ronon answered a little shortly, glancing at Potter who didn't look up from his food. "Going on the fifth year now." Five years. It didn't feel that long anymore. And at the same time, it felt a lot longer.

"Five years," the man murmured, shaking his head with a half incredulous and a half impressed look. "What's it like?"

"How about we trade places and you can see it for yourself?" Ronon asked cuttingly. The man lifted his hands in a sign of peace and turned away to end the conversation before it would get violent. Ronon grimaced at him before looking at Potter, who was still quiet. "Something bothering you?"

"People," the other answered, shaking his head and glancing around. "Been almost eight years for me, now," he added. "I forgot how it felt."

Ronon hummed in answer and nodded. He had forgotten too, almost, but he had the disputable benefit of having been older when he had been cut off from civilisation. Potter had only been fourteen - and being younger, he had adjusted to being alone better. Ronon still could think back and remember, pretend that five years wasn't that long. Potter had already forgotten the faces of his friends, so… "Is it bad?" he asked thoughtfully. He still hadn't really given up the hope that one day, one miraculous day, he would be free. If Potter had a problem with people….

"It's… different," Potter answered, glancing around again. "Would take a while to get used to."

"Yeah," Ronon murmured and lifted his tankard. "How about we eat and leave?"

"It’s fine," Potter said with a faint smile as he turned his attention to the food. "It's a rare chance."

Ronon nodded and didn't insult his companion by asking again, even though the situation was making the man obviously uncomfortable. Instead he drank his ale and ate his food, enjoying the moment even as the campsite around them started dispersing as people left through the Ring. It was probably because of them - even someone as casual as these people wouldn't stick around in a place they knew the Wraith would eventually come - but the nomads didn't seem too bothered by it.

While slowly finishing his ale, Ronon couldn't help but think that it was a bit of a pity there weren't more people like this in the galaxy. He could've used more chance encounters like this.

"If… if I get rid of the tracker, one day," Ronon said as they moved away from the food tent as it too started wrapping things up. The nomads were really efficient about their move, it seemed. All their things were quickly bundled up and carried away, some in drays and such drawn by odd, lizard like draft animals. "I will find a place with people in it. I won't keep on running. Not like this."

"Yeah," Potter nodded, looking around them as well, eyes lingering for a moment on a group of teenagers heading for the Ring.

"You'll come with me?" Ronon asked, turning to face the shorter man.

Potter glanced at him and smiled crookedly. "Yeah," he just said.

It was good enough for Ronon.


	3. Chapter 3

Though they didn't know the names of most of the planets they travelled through - or if they even had names at all - there were a few planets that Ronon and Potter visited more than once, and had ended up giving sort of names.

First was the Desert Planet - and whenever one of them spoke of the desert, the other immediately knew what he was talking about. It was, as the simple name told, a dried up planet full of cliffs and canyons and sand, where absolutely nothing lived. There was no water there either, and it never rained, making it not the sort of planet one usually wanted to frequent. They did because of one simple reason. Something about the place made Wraith a little disoriented. The first time Ronon had been on the planet, the Wraith that had been hunting him that time had been stumbling and hadn't managed to get a clear shot at him even when he was almost directly in front of it. Of course, the lack of water or anything edible eventually drove them off the planet - as well as the odd headache which always started after two days on the planet - but it was one of those rare planets where they could get a break, sort of.

Second was the Planet with the Ocean. The Ring of the Ancestors was mounted on a sort of pedestal in the middle of a tiny little island there, and as far as Ronon knew, the entire planet had incredibly little land. There were a few islands scattered around the one with the Ring, but almost all of them were mostly submerged during the tides, making it a hard place to live - especially considering the lack of fresh water. It was another planet to take a break on, because something about the air made it hard for the Wraith to breath - and when Wraith stayed there too long, their skin broke out in boils.

The last place was the Planet with the Sun. Of course every planet had a sun - some had several - but this one had a very special sort of sun. The planet was no different from many others they had seen - it had a lively forest, hills, and a nifty little cliff a few miles away from the gate where they could camp. But for some reason, probably because of the sun, the Wraith couldn't track Ronon on the planet. They could track him _to_ the planet, but on the surface their devices stopped working properly, and Wraith couldn't pinpoint his exact location. It was their favourite planet for this reason, but they never could stay for long. The sun on the world could make people sick - the first time Ronon had been on the planet he had stayed for three weeks, and broken out into a rash and a fit of nauseating headaches which had lasted for almost half a year afterwards.

There were others they returned to every now and then, but they usually visited these planets every other month or so - the first two more often than the third because it took a little longer to completely overcome the whole sun-sickness the Sun Planet caused, but still. They were the only routine they had in their running; one could even say they were sort of like safe havens for them, places where they knew they could breathe a little easier. Sometimes they saved one of the three planets for the cases when one of them was wounded and couldn't run as well - usually the first one was saved for that - or when they were simply tired of the running - the second one was good for this, as it gave a chance to swim and relax, sort of, even if only for a little while.

Usually, though, they chose to go to one of the planets because they were starting to run out of empty worlds to visit. Already after three years on the run, Ronon had used up most of the empty worlds he had known, after five it had become a bit of a stretch to find a suitable hiding place, and now, seven years into his run, four of those years spent with Potter… he no longer had new addresses to use, new worlds to visit. Not ones which were empty anyway.

"There's still plenty which are liveable," Potter said as they headed away from the Ring and towards the cave where they usually made their camp. "They haven't ruined them all."

Ronon grimaced, shifting his shoulders beneath the armour. Lately the Wraith hunting them had started using a bit harsher methods. A few of the worlds they had visited had been made unliveable, or just hard to survive in. One had been burned down almost completely, in another the Wraith had done something to the atmosphere, in a third they had done something to the lakes and rivers nearby, turning them poisonous… and so forth. After years of hide and seek, the Wraith had finally decided to drive them into a corner.

"Soon they'll torch this place too," the Runner muttered.

"Wouldn't do any good," Potter shrugged. "The plants here are… strong.  They wouldn't burn right and after burning they'd grow thrice as well."

Ronon shrugged his shoulders and didn't answer. It was comforting to think otherwise, but they both knew it was only a matter of time. So far the Wraith had more or less allowed them to keep their three safe havens, but eventually they would grow tired. It was probably the longevity of the Wraith that had kept them from getting tired of it yet. Ronon hated being played with like this with a passion that was too strong to be put in words, but he knew that it was what was keeping them alive. If the Wraith really wanted to… the game would've ended years ago.

Potter seemed to sense his thoughts. "We'll manage," he said, simple and resolute and somewhat comforting in its certainty.

They'd manage. They always did.

Ronon sighed and nodded in agreement, pushing aside a stray branch. "How much food we got?" he asked.

"Enough for a week," his companion answered, patting one of his two shoulder bags. "I stocked in the last place. It'll last longer if we stretch it."

Stretch, as in make it into soup which could make a lot out of very little. Ronon nodded. Best they'd do that and stretch the food as far as it would go. It would be a miracle if they would be able to stick around for a week before the Wraith would drive them out, but even so… it was always better to have a little bit food on a new planet. These days finding some was no longer a certainty. "You think the water's still drinkable here?" the Runner asked.

"Unless the Wraith's messed with it," Potter nodded and peered up at the sky. "The sun's rising."

"Yeah," Ronon nodded and sped up his steps from a walk to a run, Potter easily matching his pace and running after him. The less time they spent in the sun, the better - and it was still a ways to the cave. "Did we leave anything here the last time?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Not that I remember," Potter answered, voice a little breathy as he tried to keep his breathing steady and not run out of air too soon - the reason why he always lost to Ronon when they had to run far rather than fast. "I might've left some clothes that got torn. Why?"

"Could use some extra leather to patch up my jacket," Ronon answered, waving his arm in explanation. He had torn off his sleeves a few planets back and now his arms were bare except where the arm, elbow and shoulder guards covered them. And in this planet the less skin was bared, the better.

"Right," Potter nodded, and said nothing else.

They ran through the thick terrain, Ronon leading while Potter followed. The path to the cliffs was familiar now; he didn't even want to think about how many times they had been on this planet. Maybe it was time to find a new cliff side to hide in - the Wraith probably knew about their usual hideout by now. Well, it didn't stop the cliffs from being the perfect place - they were too difficult for ships to land on or cull, and you could only get in through a bottleneck-like opening. Even if the Wraith knew, it didn't do them any good - they could only come at them one by one and on foot at the cliffs.

Their hideout what exactly the same as it had been the last time they had crossed the planet - except for few new bushes and plants growing around it. Ronon ducked and brushed past them, instead of trying to cut them down, and then came to the open area at the mouth of their cavern, an area which was conveniently enough was surrounded with the cliffs.

As Ronon examined the area near the cave, Potter headed inside to check that everything was alright. Everything was in place and Ronon decided not to cut the bushes around the cave - they wouldn't slow them down too much and would give some cover in case the Wraith came. "Come on," Potter called from the cave as he finished. "You need to salve up."

Nodding in agreement, Ronon headed into the cave where his companion had already opened his bags and taken out the salve he had made just for this planet - a salve which protected them a little from the sun. Potter had already spread a layer of it over his face and whatever skin he had bared, and while he went about checking their food supplies, Ronon did the same.

"We have water for two days, unless we want to use it in cooking," Potter said after a while. "I'm going to check out the stream."

Ronon took out his own water container. "If it's good, fill this up," he said, and with a nod his companion strapped the container to his hip. Then, without another word, Potter headed back out, soon heading away from the cave and towards a nearby brook where they usually got their water from.

After salving his face and arms, Ronon pushed the lid back onto the glass jar and then pushed the precious container into the bag Potter had left behind. While waiting for his companion to return, the Runner checked the cave one more time, finding the items they had left behind the last time around. There was a pile of firewood hidden behind a few rocks, along with a bundle of worn leather, some rope and some straight sticks. Ronon smiled crookedly at them. Potter had started leaving stuff like that behind in their usual hideouts, in case they one day would return with a broken bone that needed supporting. "Won't have to find them if we already have them," he had shrugged.

Leaving the rest of the items where they sat, Ronon took the leathers and selected a few pieces of them to make new sleeves for his jacket. The planet was, sometimes, unbearably warm, but he rather be too hot, than sun-tanned here.

The sleeves were done by the time Potter returned, and Ronon was just adding them to his jacket with a thick string that could be easily removed at need. By the looks of the thick water skin his companion carried, Ronon surmised that the water was still good. At least they wouldn't die of thirst here, it seemed. Hunger was another thing. Because of the sun, everything green that grew on the planet was poisonous to eat - and there was no other sort of living things there, no animals or birds. Just lots and lots of poisonous plants.

"Good," Ronon said while accepting the water canteen the other man handed to him.

"Hmm," Potter nodded in agreement and moved to the usual fire place, and started to make a ring of stones and a sort of rough stove for when they'd need to make some food. "Where'll we go after this place?" he asked while expertly piling the stones.

"To some place with food," Ronon answered with a crooked smile, one which his slim companion answered before they fell into the usual, half comfortable, half anxious silence. "I'll go set traps," Ronon finally said, breaking the silence.

"I'll help," Potter nodded, and together they headed to the forest.

 

* * *

 

The Wraith came few days later - three of them, one commander and two foot soldiers. They immediately aimed for their hideout, making Ronon decide that the next time they'd come to the planet, they'd find a new place to stay - no use in being undetectable when habits gave you away, after all. Then he had no time for thinking anything, as a fight soon escalated into running.

"Splitting up?" Potter asked, running at his side as they tried to avoid being hit by the blasters. Facing one Wraith head on was easy - three was hard, as when you took out one, the two others shot you down.

"Splitting up," Ronon agreed. "Try running them into the swamp, I'll take them to the hill," he added. He had set a lot of traps there for this purpose, and Potter had an advantage in the swamp he didn't - he was lighter than Ronon or the Wraith and could run through places where everyone else sank.

"Got it. Meet you back at the cave," the smaller man said, and darted left where Ronon headed right, white blasts rushing through the space where they had just been in. There was a pause in the fire as the Wraith split up, before they were running after them again - and judging by the pace of the fire, two had come after him while one had chased after Potter. That was good. He was more likely to be able to take out two Wraiths than Potter was - and two Wraiths had better luck at dispersing Potter's shield than one did.

"Come on," the Runner hissed through his teeth, narrowly avoiding being hit on the shoulder. He was almost there - up ahead there was a series of foot traps. If he could just get the Wraith to follow him, one or both of them might get caught…. There, the small cliffs. Just a little further from there and he'd reach the traps. He shot once behind him, more to let the Wraith know his position than to actually hit them - no time to aim properly - and then ran between two rocky ledges. "Come on. Follow me you bastards…."

There was the shrill noise of a stunner blaster, once, twice - the third hit him in the leg. Growling through his teeth as he almost fell; Ronon forced himself back to his feet, throwing a look over his shoulder. He wasn't there yet, damn it. But with his leg numb, he wasn't going to make it. "Shit," he growled, tightening the hold of his gun. It seemed they were going to have a proper shootout after all --

"Drop it."

Ronon stopped, looking ahead. A man stood there, dark skinned with an oddly twisted face - and with what was obviously some sort of weapon held in both hands, aimed steadily at him. Ronon lifted his own in return, fully intending to fire at the man if he so much as made a move. Who knew what a human did here - either the man had ran into the place by accident, or he was a Wraith Worshipper. One way or another, Ronon wouldn't be held back. Not with the Wraith on his tail.

They stared at each other and neither moved. Then, breaking their fight of wills, a stunner blast took Ronon to the shoulders, knocking the breath out of him and sending him to his knees. The Wraith had caught him. Hissing curses inside his mind, he gripped his gun harder, trying to force his body to move, to turn around, to _fire_ \- he would _not_ die here, not like this, not so stupidly….

The sharp sound of some sort of weapons fire came from in front of him and with something akin to disbelief he realised that the human that had been about to shoot him, was shooting at the Wraith instead. Ronon growled as he almost fell on his face, and forced himself up to his elbows and to look behind him. The Wraith soldier had reached them first and was getting most of the fire, but the commander was almost there, stunner held up, ready to fire.

Ronon caught him first, his own blaster shaking a little in his hand but the fire meeting its target, leaving the chest of the Wraith's coat smouldering as the creature fell down, hissing its final breath.

There was a moment of silence before the dark skinned man, who had somehow ended up saving Ronon, stepped forward, taking out a knife. The Runner watched somewhat disbelievingly as the man kneeled down beside the soldier Wraith, like about to gut it. Not a Wraith Worshiper then. A Wraith _Eater_.

No way was Ronon staying behind with someone like that. As the man distracted himself by cutting into the Wraith's arm, Ronon forced himself to his feet. Before the man even looked up, he was already on the run, heading towards the trapped area, intending to double back once he was sure the man wouldn't be able to easily trace him.

The numbness had mostly faded by the time he made it to the cave. Potter wasn't there yet, but he didn't let it bother him. One Wraith on foot, a soldier even. If Potter could be taken down by someone like that, then the four years they had run together had taught the man nothing. Shaking his head at the thought, Ronon sat beside his companion's discarded bags and reached for the water skin. Then he waited.

Potter came half an hour later, limping a little but obviously victorious. "Ran into an Ancestor-damned tree stump," the smaller man growled, falling to sit beside him and peeling back his pant leg, to show a soon to be bruise on his knee, and a slightly bleeding scrape. He hissed while prodding the wound. "No factures," he sighed, sounding a little relieved.

Ronon smirked crookedly. "Not the first time you’ve run into something," he pointed out a little amusedly. Potter tended to do it once in a while, actually. The curse of having bad eyesight. "I told you that you should start wearing greaves."

"Rub it in, why don't you," Potter muttered, reaching for the bag that held their medical supplies and taking out a jar of healing salve. "I see you ran fine," he pointed out while spreading the salve over the injury.

"Hm. Don't know if I'd call it that," Ronon muttered. "Almost got myself killed. Set the traps too far," he said, rubbing his neck which still tingled a little after the stunner blast. "Ran into a Wraith Eater. He almost shot me before noticing the Wraith."

"Ugh," Potter muttered, flexing his leg to alleviate the bruise. "Hopefully he gets his fill and leaves. I hate those guys."

"Yeah," Ronon nodded in agreement. They had run into Wraith Eaters only a few times, but none of the times had been especially pleasant. Who knew what drove people into it - maybe they thought they would get the Wraith's strength or something stupid like that - but every now and then somewhere some idiot got the brilliant idea of eating Wraith flesh. Maybe it was a sort of payback - eat them before they eat you. Ronon didn't really want to think about it too closely.

"Well, he got two Wraiths to mess with," Ronon said. "Maybe that'll be enough."

"Yeah." Potter answered and fell to lay on his back on the ground with a grunt. "We gonna leave?" he asked, sounding tired.

"Once it gets dark," Ronon answered. "To make sure the Eater leaves. And give us a chance to rest." He added, glancing at the other's knee. Hopefully Potter wouldn't need to limp once they went.

Potter nodded and closed his eyes. "You got a planet in mind?"

"The one with the barley field - unless they've burned that one down."

The smaller man smiled without opening his eyes, knowing to read between the lines. The one with the barley field could also be translated to the one where they could eat bread. "Sounds like a plan."

 

* * *

 

When night fell, though, things got more troublesome. Judging by the sounds in the forest as they walked through it and towards the Ring, more people had come. "More Wraith Eaters?" Potter asked a little uneasily, holding his arm up and ready in case he would need to make a shield.

"Two Wraiths would feed a few of them," Ronon muttered, sharing the unease though not letting it really show. One Wraith Eater was nasty enough, but a group of them…. It wasn't that he didn't approve of the idea of hunting and killing Wraith - anyone who did it and was good at it was okay in his books. The thing with Wraith Eaters, though, was that they all were more or less messed up. "Maybe they're here to fetch the bodies."

"Maybe," Potter murmured, and both of them froze as they heard people a little closer. In unison, they crouched among the bushes to avoid being seen. "I don't think we can make it to the Ring like this," he said.

"Yeah," Ronon agreed, frowning. They probably had the Ring covered, and without knowing how many there were, he didn't really want to risk it. The one he had run into had had a pretty effective weapon - a projectile weapon, sure, but it had taken a Wraith down well enough. If they all had similar weapons….

"Let's keep a fair distance and wait. Maybe they will leave," the Runner said.

Potter snorted while shifting into a better position, his knee pressed against the ground for better balance. "And we're so good at waiting, aren't we?" he muttered, making Ronon grin faintly. Potter huffed and smiled in return. "Well, from here we should at least see what they're up to," the smaller man then said. "And if they really are leaving or staying."

Ronon nodded, pressing his knuckles against the ground. "We need to find a new place to camp the next time we come here," he said after moment of quiet.

"The eastern cliffs?" Potter suggested. "Not as good cover, no cave, but there's water closer by."

They pondered on it for a moment before a rasp nearby made them both turn quiet - Potter even murmured a silencing spell under his breath. Then they both waited tensely, Potter with his hand held ready while Ronon slowly pulled out his gun. It was still set to kill, but he couldn't change the setting without giving away their position - the blaster was almost as noisy as it was useful.

The footsteps came closer - and then stopped. "What is it?" male voice asked not far away from them.

"I thought I heard something," a female voice answered, making both Ronon and Potter brace themselves.

"Fight?" Potter mouthed silently.

"Run," Ronon answered, holding up three fingers. "In three…."

"Ford?" the male voice that had spoken first called, and when Ronon craned his head a little, he could see them - two figures not far from them, a man and woman, both dressed in similar combat gear the Wraith Eater had worn. Not a very comforting connection - except these two didn't look as wild as the Wraith Eater had. "That you? It's John," the man called, apparently thinking they were someone else.

"They're looking for someone?" Potter mouthed quietly.

"The Wraith Eater, maybe," Ronon grimaced, and held up two fingers.

"Aiden, listen to me," the woman called, peering around her in the dark forest. "We want to help you, please! Just come out -- we only want to talk."

Ronon made a motion, and both he and Potter shot up from their hiding place. As they did, a branch snapped almost right in Potter's face, making a noise the silencing spell didn't cover. Grimacing in unison as they heard the woman and the man start chasing, Ronon and Potter both sped up, Ronon making a move for Potter to go ahead, as he was faster.

"Go ahead, double back, take them out if it gets to that," Ronon said, and nodding his companion headed forward, soon leaving Ronon behind. The Runner himself glanced behind him, before leading the two humans on a chase through the most difficult parts of the forest's terrain, hoping that it would slow them down. They were good - the woman especially seemed skilled in moving through thick forests - but at least they weren't firing at him. Yet.

They didn't seem willing to give up the chase though. And with their gear and weapons, they seemed rather militant. And if they were, if they had training - if that training was anything like the military training of Sateda... the wouldn't give up until they caught him.

Ronon glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes, before darting sharply to the left, hiding himself behind a thick tree and growing completely still, blaster held tightly in hand. With the distance between him and his pursuers, they shouldn't have noticed. And they hadn't. The woman kept running past the spot where he had switched directions. The opening was perfect.

He switched his gun to the stun setting and took the shot. The woman fell with a cry, first to her knees and then completely to the ground. Ronon smiled grimly and then looked back to where the woman had come from, waiting for the man. He seemed to have seen the shot, as he stopped with a bush between him and Ronon, blocking the line of fire. Grimacing, Ronon pushed himself away from the tree, intending to move around the bush.

Before he did, red light flashed in the darkness, and the man chasing him fell to the ground with a grunt. Ronon sighed and stepped away from his hiding place. "I guess it got to that?" Potter asked, walking into view as well, hand held ready to fire another spell if necessary.

"They seem organised. Wouldn't have stopped otherwise, not without catching something," Ronon said, walking to the man Potter had felled and crouching beside him. The man had short dark hair which seemed oddly clean and his skin was flawless aside from the makings of stubble - and yet he had no protective salve. "They haven't been here for long," he mused. If they had, the man would've had a rash by now. He nudged the weapon that had fallen from the man's hands. Black, sturdy, and judging by the design it had only one setting. Lethal.

"Hm," Potter nodded in agreement, walking to the woman and checking her as well. Unlike Ronon, who first secured the weapons, Potter went through the woman's vest pockets. "I don't think these are Wraith Eaters," he said, holding up something. "It's food – a protein bar. A Wraith Eater wouldn't carry something like this around."

"And they were looking for someone. Might be that the Wraith Eater I saw went feral and these came here to hunt him down," Ronon muttered and frowned. The Wraith Eater had had similar gear - the weapons were the same, as well as the vests. "These people are military," he said thoughtfully.

"And that's bad," Potter more asked than stated.

"It is, since they're probably guarding the Ring," Ronon answered and looked up. That was what Satedan soldiers would've done. "Not knowing how many there are... it's not safe heading to the Ring without knowing more," he mused and glanced at his companion. "We need to question these two."

Potter was quiet for a moment before returning the things he had found from the woman's pockets back to where they came from. Then he stood up, waving his hand at the woman who, in answer, rose from the ground to float beside the slim man. "Let's go then," he said, walking to Ronon's side and repeating the spell on the male soldier as well. Ronon nodded his head, eyes lingering on the floating figures - even after four years Potter's abilities still amazed him sometimes.

They headed back to the cave where Ronon tied the two soldiers up after taking away their weapons and gear. The two they had captured were incredibly well stocked. Weapons, medicine, bandages, food, water, torches, rope - they even had blankets and equipment to make food. Not to mention about their clothing, weapons - they didn't make metal like the ones these used in their knives just anywhere. "Not many in the galaxy have stuff like this," Ronon muttered. Sateda had, once, but even they hadn't had foot soldiers who were _this_ well stocked.

"Some are better off than others," Potter agreed, examining the canteen thoughtfully, before taking a sip. "Filtered water," he noted, eyeing the canteen with something akin to envy.

"If this is standard gear for their soldiers... they're better than just well off," Ronon muttered, glancing at the two unconscious prisoners. The Wraith didn't let people to be this well off, not unless it amused them like with Sateda. He frowned, wondering just who these people were. Their weapons were a little more primitive than Sateda's, but on the whole... they were more advanced than the majority of the galaxy.

Potter didn't answer. He had pulled out something from the pocket of one of the vests, a sleek black device of some sort, which he turned in his hands for a moment before accidentally turning it on. The screen lit up, showing text that for some reason made Potter's eyes widen a little.

"What is it?" Ronon asked, leaning forward. To him the writing on the device was nothing more than gibberish - foreign languages usually were. "What is that thing?"

"I have no idea, but.... It's the writing of my home world," Potter answered, turning a frown towards the two unconscious soldiers with an uneasy look. "I... I didn't think my world _had_ a Ring of the Ancestors."

Ronon glanced between the two unconscious soldiers and his companion. He had shared the assumption, after finding out more about Potter's abilities and that his people didn't need technological devices to travel. Potter had been exiled through magic, not with a Ring, so.... "Might be that it was hidden. Some worlds hide them. Bury them," Ronon answered.

"Well.... Stuff like this would make a good conspiracy," Potter murmured, shifting closer to their captives and frowning. "On Earth a lot of important stuff is kept secret. Like my people. The majority of the world didn't even know we existed. If the normal people had the Ring... they might keep it a secret. And these two aren't like me," he said, and then explained. "My people don't use weapons like these, and these two don't have wands."

Ronon nodded slowly and then frowned as a sudden thought came to him. Even if they weren't _like_ Potter, these were people could still be from Potter's world - and if they were, then... then Potter might have a way home, after ten years of exile. The Runner looked away sharply as an ugly thought raised its head. If he got a chance like this, if he found a way back to Sateda, the way it had been, and had no tracker on him... he would take it.

"Ronon," Potter said softly. "Let's keep it quiet."

"What?" the Runner asked.

"That I'm from Earth," Potter answered, looking up with an anxious look about his slightly dirty face. "I don't want them to know."

Ronon raised his eyebrows with surprise. That wasn't what he had expected to hear. But then again... his companion was uneasy about people. And Earth had exiled the man when he had been merely fourteen.... "Right," he muttered, taking one of the weapons and testing the grip. "You know, if they're here, it might mean that Wraith found your planet."

"My heart bleeds," Potter muttered without much sympathy. Ronon grinned mirthlessly, wondering what it was like to have so little fondness towards the planet you had been born on.

They waited for their captives to wake up, and as they did the planet turned and the sun eventually came out. While Potter insisted he put on more of his salve, Ronon wondered if the other soldiers were looking for these two. If it had been Sateda, they would've. Squads only worked when they were whole. If one fell, others went to get them. But it might be that Sateda had a different military than Earth did.

The sun was at its full strength when the captives finally started to come to. The woman was the first to wake up, jolting slightly as she did and immediately looking around. Her movement alerted Ronon and Potter, not only to the fact that she was awake but that she thought quickly. Before either Ronon or Potter could do anything, she already seemed to figure out that she was held captive, that her partner was bound behind her. "Colonel?" she asked, but the man didn't budge. Potter's stunners were too strong for recovery that quick.

When she realised that, she looked up at them again, levelling them with a look which was half defiance and half resignation. "I am Teyla Emmagan," she said in steady voice. "Why have you captured us?"

Potter frowned slightly at the words while Ronon raised his eyebrow at the woman without answering. Instead he glanced at his partner and nodded at the male soldier. Shrugging his shoulders, Potter held out his hand towards the unconscious man with two fingers pointed as if he was holding a gun. He muttered a word, " _Ennervate_ ," and with a jerk the male soldier woke up as well, blinking with shock. Then the man noticed them, and froze, caution taking over his features.

"Teyla?" he asked softly, turning his head a little as if to glance at the woman over his shoulder, even as he kept his eyes steadily on Ronon and Potter. "Something tells me we didn't find Ford."

"Colonel," she answered, sounding slightly relieved even while giving Potter a slightly uneasy look.

"So," the male soldier said, an oddly casual sound from someone held prisoner. "This is... new. You two mind filling us in about what's going on and where we are? I would kind of appreciate the intel."

Potter snorted and stepped back while making a motion at Ronon to go ahead, do what he wanted. The Runner nodded while grabbing one of the bigger weapons the two soldiers had been carrying and stepped closer to them. The man and woman both glanced down at it with a slightly uneasy look while Ronon tested its weight. For a projectile weapon, it was pretty well made. "You two chased us," he said.

"Ah. We might've," the man agreed. "We thought you were someone else. It was... kind of hard to tell the difference in the dark."

"So we gathered," Ronon answered, crouching in front of the man and holding the gun pointed at him - more as an intimidation technique than for any other reason. "You're military."

"You noticed that, huh?" the man asked, still pretty casual despite the gun pointed at him. There was, however, tenseness about him that told Ronon that he wasn't taking the situation as easily as he seemed to. "And you are?"

Ronon tilted the gun, not answering.

"Alright then. I'll go first. I am Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," the man said, putting a rather strong emphasis on the word _colonel_. There was a short pause before the man added. "This is the part where you tell me your name."

Ronon fought back a snort in favour of eyeing the man thoughtfully. A military with specific ranks, it seemed. Not the sort of ragtag groups of men of battle people usually tended to have these days. Except... for a man with an obviously high level rank, this man didn't seem like most of the military commanders Ronon had known. For one, the man had been in the field and on foot - and pretty informal and easy going for a commander. And for two, he hadn't started making demands right away, like some would have. Demands or threats - or attempts at bribery.

"I'm Ronon Dex," he finally answered, and glanced at his companion, who shrugged his shoulders. "And he's Potter," the Runner added while standing up. He looked down to the gun in his hand before throwing it back into the pile with the rest of the things they had taken from their captives. "Your people the ones guarding the Ring?"

"Yes," Sheppard answered slowly, looking between them. "I guess you want to use it, then?"

"We need to get off the planet," Ronon said, and fingered the handle of his blaster. "If your people try to stop us -"

"They won't, if I tell them not to," Sheppard said, jumping at the opportunity. "Listen, if you want to get off this world, we're not going to stop you - we have nothing against you. Just... untie us, give me a radio, and I will tell my men to stand down."

"And why should we trust you?" Ronon asked, glancing at Potter who had stood up and was now going through his bag in search of something.

"That's... a good question," Sheppard said and after a moment leaned back to glance at the woman behind him. "Teyla. Why should they trust us?"

She sighed and looked at Ronon. "We mean you no harm," she said in a steady, almost soothing tone. "We're only here looking for our friend."

Ronon straightened his back and glanced at Potter. Seemed like they had been right - these people were looking for the Wraith Eater. "I saw your friend," he said to Sheppard and Emmagan. "He killed one of the Wraiths that were hunting us."

"Hunting you?" Sheppard asked, frowning.

"Why're you looking for him?" Ronon asked instead of answering. What use could a soldier gone feral be? Especially if the man had turned into a Wraith Eater. The only reason he could think for someone to chase after someone like that would be to kill them, to put down the feral beast they had become.

"His name is Aiden Ford and he is sick," Emmagan answered, apparently sensing some of his thoughts. "He needs our help."

"Can you really help people that far gone?" Potter asked, now looking at the captives with an oddly speculative look about him.

"We can try," she answered, giving the slim man an uneasy look. "We don't know unless we can find him."

Ronon wasn't so sure there was anything anyone could do. When a person went that way, the only way to get them off it would be to either lock them up or simply shoot them down. Best way to go about Wraith Eaters was to simply avoid them. "This doesn't matter to us," the Runner said to Potter, who seemed a little more interested about Sheppard now. "We need to get to the Ring. Get out of this world."

"Why?" Sheppard asked, squirming a little where he sat.

"Because the Wraith are coming," Ronon said, more to Potter than Sheppard. He didn't like the curious look on his companion's face. It could mean so many things - and when it was aimed at someone from Potter's own world. He didn't like the implications.

"How do you know they're coming?" the Colonel asked, now sounding a little confused.

"They always come. Sooner or later," Ronon answered, frowning. They had taken out three Wraiths just the previous day. The Wraith would send more soon. "They're hunting us," he added. _Us_ because he wanted to remind Potter that it wasn't just Ronon they hunted these days. Potter might not have a tracker, but... they were in it together, weren't they? Potter hadn't changed his mind, had he?

"Hunting you," Emmagan murmured, frowning. "You're Runners."

"I am," Ronon nodded, still staring at Potter who was still looking at Sheppard.

"What's a Runner?" Sheppard asked, looking between the Runner and Potter, who finally looked away, now frowning.

"They... I've only heard stories, but...." the woman trailed away, looking up at them as well. She coughed. "They say Runners are people marked by the Wraith - they are forced to run from world to world with the Wraith chasing after them. And they either run or they die."

"How does that work?" the Colonel asked.

Ronon frowned and turned to face the captives. "They take you when they cull your planet. For some reason they decide not to feed on you," he answered. "Instead they cut into you. Put a tracking device in you, in your back, where you can't reach well enough to cut it out. Then they release you, and then they hunt you. And then you run."

Sheppard looked a little wide eyed. "And you both..." he trailed away. "And that's why you want to get off the planet."

"They already found us once. They will send ships next," Ronon answered, and looked at Potter. "We need to get out of here."

"Yeah," Potter agreed. "Except..."

"Except what?" Ronon asked, barely able to keep himself from snapping. Except that Potter would no longer run with him, except that he'd rather go with these people back to his home planet?

"You have advanced medicine," Potter said, ignoring Ronon. He pushed himself away from where he was leaning against the cliff wall, and walked to Sheppard, who eyed him confusedly. Ronon growled softly under his breath as the slim man crouched in front the military commander, looking intent. "Your people's medicine is...  advanced enough to cut the tracking device out of Ronon."

"What?" Ronon asked, surprised.

"What?" Sheppard asked at the same time. "Wait. Yes. We do. _Of course_ we do. I know a great doctor - he could probably do stuff like that in his sleep," he said quickly, before frowning. "How do you know that?"

Potter smiled crookedly. "Just do," he said, and pulled out a knife while Ronon stared at him with mild astonishment. "That doctor of yours could come here."

"Absolutely," Sheppard agreed, looking down at the knife and leaning his head back to a safe distance from it. "We get the tracker out, you let us go?" he asked, glancing back at the woman behind him.

"You get the tracking device out, and I'll even find your friend for you," Potter said, and glanced at Ronon over his shoulder. "Right?" he asked, suddenly sounding unsure.

Ronon stared at him for a moment, fighting to keep up with the man's train of thought. Then he growled softly. "A word with you," and nodded towards the mouth of the cave. Potter stood and followed him out easily, looking at him from the corner of his eyes, apparently aware that Ronon wasn't too thrilled by the turn of events. "What are you doing?" the Runner asked once they were out of hearing range. "I thought you didn't want them to know about you?"

"I changed my mind. This is more important," the shorter man answered, frowning. "I know their medicine. I remembered when they were talking about healing the Wraith Eater - they probably could do it. They can cut your heart out, put another's in, and you'd never tell the difference, that's how good it is. They can get the tracking device out of you without any risk of inflicting harm on you - unlike the last doctor we met."

He grimaced there - Ronon almost did too. Last time they had asked a doctor to try and cut the transmitter out, the man had failed and the wound had been infected - Ronon had gotten a high fever and been delirious for almost a week straight because of the infection. They had almost gotten caught because of that - and he didn't even want to think of the many ways he had embarrassed himself and Potter during that particular period of time.

But that wasn't the point here. "And then what?" Ronon asked snapped, turning away. "They get the tracking device out, and we go with them? If you want to go back to your home planet --"

"What? No, Ronon --" Potter snapped, taking a hold of his hand to stop him from withdrawing. "Of course not. It's just..." he sighed, frowning his fingers holding Ronon's larger hand almost tenderly. "Just we both would enjoy travelling a little more without the Wraith on our heels all the time, or ahead of us, ruining the worlds and our chances of finding food," he murmured, and looked up. "This… this is a chance we won't get again. A chance I know to be _safe_."

Ronon hesitated and turned back to the shorter man. "You don't want to go with them?" he asked. "Back to your home planet?"

"I want to stay with you," Potter shrugged. "You should've noticed that by now."

"Yeah. Just… if I got an opportunity like this…" Ronon shook his head, a little annoyed with himself and Potter both.

"I know. It's fine," Potter answered, and then turned sharply to look back. Ronon glanced over his shoulder and saw that their captives were no longer held captive.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," Sheppard demanded, one of their larger weapons aimed at the two travellers, Emmagan following closely behind him.

"Flaw in your plan," Ronon muttered.

"Not really," Potter answered and held his hands towards Sheppard and Emmagan in way that most would've considered surrender, but which in reality aimed the wand straight at them. Potter murmured a familiar word, and immediately Ronon pulled out his gun. In what looked like an instinctual move, Sheppard and Emmagan both tried to fire, but the projectiles ricochet from Potter's shield, their damage inflicted on the surrounding cliffs instead. Before the two soldiers realised what had happened or what it meant for them, Ronon had already fired, first on Emmagan's shoulder and then on Sheppard's wrist, taking away their gun hands.

"What… the hell was that," Sheppard muttered, holding his now numb hand and eyeing the air around Ronon and Potter with a wide eyed look about him. "Some sort of shield?"

"People like us find ways to protect ourselves," Potter answered, reaching to poke the shield with his finger, making it shimmer in blue. "We don't survive long if we don't."

"So I see," Sheppard muttered, tilting his head and glancing at Emmagan who had fallen to her knees. "Not one of our best plans, I guess. Also, just to make one thing clear, I wasn't aiming at you, neither of us were. It was… friendly fire," he assured with an uncomfortable look about him.

Ronon snorted. "You're lucky I had this set for stun," he muttered, aiming the gun steadily at Sheppard's forehead. Potter kept his hand towards Emmagan - a fact which she didn't miss - while Ronon grinned darkly. "Now," he said to Sheppard.  "What about that doctor?"

Sheppard frowned. "I can get him," he said grimly. "Shouldn't take more than half an hour."

"Good. That settles it," Ronon nodded and glanced at Sheppard's companion. "She stays here. Now go. Unarmed," he added when Sheppard made motion to grab his things. "Go," the Runner repeated and with a grimace the military commander turned to leave, casting one last look at Emmagan before going.

"Right. Good. My turn now," Potter murmured, lowering his hand as Ronon aimed at his gun at the Emmagan instead. The two travellers glanced at each other before Potter turned to look at the woman again. "That guy you were looking for. His name?"

"Aiden Ford," Emmagan said, her voice a little less steady as she tried to carefully shift her numb shoulder.

"Aiden Ford," Potter repeated and looked up to Ronon. "Shouldn't take long."

"Go," Ronon agreed, and with a grim smile his partner headed to the bottleneck opening of the cliffs, vanishing into the woods. Ronon stared after him for a moment and then shook his head. One day he would understand the man. Maybe.

"Does he really think he can find him?" Emmagan asked softly. "He doesn't even know what Aiden looks like."

"He doesn't need to," Ronon answered and made a motion with his gun, urging her to go back to the cave. He wasn't about to stick around in the sun when there was shade to be had. They made themselves comfortable on the floor of the cave, next to the pile of things Ronon had taken from Emmagan and Sheppard.

"That is unnecessary, you know," she said after a while, nodding at the gun Ronon was still aiming at her. Conceding the point - she was still suffering the effects of the stun, and even if she hadn't been, she was still unarmed while he had gun and a large variety of knives - Ronon let the gun fall and then pushed it to its holster. Emmagan relaxed a little and then asked softly, "How long have you been on the run?"

"Seven years," Ronon answered, as it wasn't exactly important information that she could use against him. It didn't sound like she was asking in order to get information out of him, either - she was just curious and, oddly enough, concerned.

"And… he has been with you all the time?" she asked, nodding outside, obviously meaning Potter.

"No," Ronon answered, shifting his shoulders. "Met him four years ago. He… decided to keep me company," he shrugged. That was probably the simplest way of putting it.

The woman was quiet for a moment, thinking over the information. Then she smiled, and for odd moment Ronon thought she looked faintly jealous. "He must be very fond of you, to do something like that," Emmagan said. "You've been running together ever since? Never staying still?"

"Not much choice," the Runner answered, glancing away for a moment. "There are empty planets we visit more than once - like this one - but usually…" he trailed away, shrugging.

"Empty planets? Always?" she asked and then smiled, this time oddly compassionate. "You do not want to bring the Wraith down on other people."

Ronon shrugged. That was it, really. He would've preferred not to bring them down on Potter either, but it was his choice - and Potter wasn't a weakling anymore. "I… I've run into people. Once on a planet, that had a village near the Ring…" he trailed away and shook his head. "It was before Potter. Not long since I became a Runner."

Emmagan eyed him worriedly. "What happened?"

"I stayed. Missed civilisation too much not to. Company, a proper meal for a chance – an actual bed to sleep in. Left first thing the next morning," Ronon muttered and grimace. "Didn't matter. Later I ran into the nomads. They told me… the whole village…." he shook his head.

The woman swallowed, nodding in understanding. "And after you met him?"

Ronon couldn't help the smile. "Hasn't been so bad since," he answered. She smiled in return and they fell into a somewhat comfortable silence.

Eventually, crackle from one of Emmagan's and Sheppard's devices broke it. "Teyla, this is Sheppard, come in," the Colonel's voice asked through the device.

"A radio, communication device," Emmagan explained as Ronon reached for the thing. After a moment of consideration, he handed it to her, and with a brief smile she took it, pressing a button on to. "Go ahead, Colonel," she said to the device.

"You okay?"

"Yes, colonel," the woman answered. "We are well."

"I'm here with Doc Beckett. He's coming in," Sheppard's voice said through the radio.

Ronon raised his eyebrows. Fast work, for something like this. "Unarmed," he said.

Emmagan sighed. "Ronon would like to remind that Doctor Beckett must remained unarmed," she said obediently into the radio, raising her eyebrows at him once she was done.

"Good enough," the Runner said pulling out his gun again and standing up. Emmagan followed him with a huff, rubbing her no-doubt still numb shoulder and together they headed out of the cave and into the open, to wait for this Doctor Beckett. The man soon came in, carrying a case and three different bags.

"Hullo," the man said a little breathlessly while walking forward. "I don't usually make house calls like this, but then again…" he glanced around. "This isn't really a house, is it?"

"What's in the case, Doc?" Ronon asked, wondering what it was about these people. Teyla was somewhat serious - even if also disturbingly open about her opinions and even more unnervingly easy to trust - but Sheppard had been ridiculously casual and now this man, a medical doctor, came in with a joke on his lips.

"Surgical implements, diagnostic tools, various drugs, analgesics, antibiotics," the Doctor answered.

Ronon blinked with surprise. "What?" he asked, glancing at Emmagan. Not only did the litany make next to no sense to him, but the man had a very odd way of speaking.

Emmagan sighed, looking partially amused and partially worried. "Ronon; Doctor Carson Beckett. Doctor Beckett; Ronon," she introduced them.

"Pleasure," the doctor said, obviously not meaning it in the slightest.  He turned away, setting the case down and starting to shrug of the rest of his package. "I understand you have some sort of a transmitter in your back," the man said. "Well, have a seat. Off with your shirt, let's have a look."

"No," Ronon answered.

"No?" Beckett asked, stopping in the middle of opening a case.

"Not before Potter gets here," the Runner explained.

"You do not trust us," Emmagan said softly.

"I do. That's why he's here and you're still alive. But the last time someone cut into me, I passed out and spent a week in a delusional fever," Ronon answered, narrowing his eyes and cocking the gun a little to the side. These people had more than enough incentive to leave him unconscious for the Wraith to find, and he wasn't going to take that chance. "So, we wait until Potter gets here."

Emmagan sighed and glanced at Beckett, who seemed unsure what to do. "Well," the doctor said finally. "I could still take a look at you while we wait, so that I know what I'm dealing with once your friend gets here," he suggested, and held up his hands in sign of surrender. "No cutting, just a diagnostic."

Ronon glanced at Emmagan who faced him with steady look. "Fine," the Runner said, and sat down.

The examination was brief but apparently thorough - barring from Emmagan's wide eyed look at the overlapping feeding marks at his chest, and Beckett's exclamation about the cuts in his back.

 Beckett wanted to knock him unconscious for the operation, but Ronon didn't really think so - at least not before Potter returned. If he was knocked out medicinally, who knew how long that lasted.

Thankfully, his companion was fast in all things he did - and hunting Potter had perfected into an art form. Ten minutes after the examination, talking reached them in the hideout, the bushes at the cliff's opening shuddered and a man in an odd orange suit walked forward, "See, I'm walking, I'm walking. I'm just saying, I'd really like to have a look it, because seriously, levitation, anything that can produce an effect like that has to be Ancient and - oh," the man in orange stopped. "Beckett. And Teyla. And… a half-naked man?"

"Doctor McKay," Emmagan said, sounding relieved while Beckett let out a little incredulous. "Rodney?"

Behind the man in orange came Potter, his palm lightly resting on the chest of an unconscious dark skinned man, floating beside him - the Wraith Eater these people had been looking for. Potter hadn't only knocked him out - he had also tied the man up.

"Aiden," Emmagan gasped, making a move to step forward. "You found him," she said, turning to Potter, looking a little shocked.

"Not hard, with this guy around," Potter snorted, giving a sideways glance at the man in orange. "Making enough noise to hear from half a mile away."

"Well excuse me from having a mild panic attack while a crazy person starts shooting at me," the man in orange said a little defiantly, before noticing that Ronon had Emmagan at gun point, and that Beckett had surgical equipment out. "Um. What's this?"

"Uh, am I the only one concerned about the fact that Lieutenant Ford is… floating?" Beckett asked.

"I was just talking about that - it's some sort of device he's using, and I really would like to have a look at it and --" the man in orange started and then there was too much talking to keep track of. Ronon eyed them with a frown before shaking his head and turning his attention to his companion. While Emmagan, the loud man in orange, and Beckett continued, Potter let the unconscious Wraith Eater float down to the ground, before moving to Ronon's side.

"So?" he asked, glancing at Ronon's back, which was still perfectly intact, excluding a few scars.

"He says he can do it, but he wants to knock me unconscious," Ronon answered, glancing at the Wraith Eater. "I see you caught him."

"Was easy. He and that rubber-suit guy were arguing when I caught up with them. Took four stunners to take him down, though," Potter muttered with a snort. "I force fed him a sleeping potion too, just to be sure. If he gets up within the next two days, I'll be shocked," he added before glancing at Beckett and then at Ronon. The remaining amusement from the story faded from his face, and he frowned. "Unconscious," he repeated.

Beckett, who had caught their conversation, turned to them while Emmagan checked on the Wraith Eater and the man in orange frowned at them. "To get the transmitter I need to cut close to his spinal column, dangerously close. He needs to lay down and take some sedative to make him sleep - because if he flinches…" he trailed away, implying many bad possibilities.

"I wouldn't flinch," Ronon answered frowning.

"If he hits a nerve, you will," Potter answered slowly and looked down at Ronon seriously. Ronon could immediately tell what he was thinking - and was affirmed when the shorter man brushed his hand over his right arm guard. "I can wake you up the moment it's done," he said softly.

The Runner frowned. He didn't like the idea at all. If he was unconscious and these people tried something - or if the Wraith came. "Can't you just make me not feel the pain?" he asked.

"Would if I could - and would've used it a million times before," Potter shrugged. "You know that." There was a moment of silence before Potter laid hand on his shoulder. "Ronon," he said, simple and demanding, asking him to make up his mind already.

The Runner sighed. "Fine," he said and glanced at Beckett. "Where you want me, Doc?"

The man blinked with surprise and then glanced around. "Here," he then said, motioning at a flat rock nearby. Ronon grumbled softly, handing his blaster to Potter who took it in his left hand and immediately aimed it at the man in orange - who spluttered incoherently in answer to the move - and stood up. With Potter watching every move, he laid down, while Beckett went to get his medicine. "Now, this anaesthetic will --"

"No need for that," Potter answered, and looked at Ronon. "You ready?" Ronon nodded, laying his cheek against the stone. His companion smiled grimly, before placing his hand gently on Ronon's back, fingers rubbing lightly along the old surgery scars. " _Stupefy_ ," Potter muttered, and a bolt of red light sent Ronon into blissful darkness.

It felt like almost immediately after a whispered, " _Ennervate_ ," woke him up. He jerked slightly, almost crushing his nose against the stone, before grimacing at the stinging pain coming from his back. When he looked up, it seemed like nothing had changed - the Wraith Eater still lay on the ground in binds, Emmagan still hovered about, looking worried, and Beckett was standing somewhere nearby. Potter was sitting next to him, Ronon's blaster in his left hand aimed at Emmagan, looking at him with oddly relieved eyes.

"It's done?" Ronon asked, a little disoriented by the whole thing. Potter had never used Stupefy on him before. He hadn't thought it would feel like a memory lapse - like a piece of time had been cut off from him.

"It's done. He got it out," Potter answered, glancing at a metal dish nearby - an odd metallic thing lay in it, covered in droplets of blood. The transmitter. "Didn't even take long."

Ronon nodded, sitting up with a grimace. It definitely felt like someone had been cutting into his back - except the pain wasn't even nearly as bad as it had been the last time.

"Okay," the man in the orange suit said, standing up from where he had been sitting. "The tracker's out, you got Ford for us. Now what?"

"Now we leave," Potter answered while Ronon quickly pulled his jacket back on, securing the clasps at the front.

"To Atlantis?" the loud man asked, perking up at the sound of the words. "Because that would be awesome - I really want to see that device of yours and how it works and what's the power source - because seriously, a thing that can produce shields and make people float while working as a stunner -"

"Rodney," Emmagan said, almost berating, having noticed the scowl on Potter's face, and Ronon's frown.

As the man in the orange suit spluttered himself to a halt, Beckett turned to face them. "I agree with Rodney, though. I'd prefer to see you in Atlantis and in the infirmary sometime soon to make sure that there are no complications from the surgery," the man said, glancing around them with a frown. "Because this isn't really a place for complicated surgery and who knows what sort of side-effects it could have."

"Atlantis," Ronon repeated while accepting his gun from Potter, who was frowning. "The City of the Ancestors?" he asked, thinking back to one of the pieces of equipment Beckett had used. It had been Ancestor technology. Not many had stuff like that left, but it wasn't entirely uncommon. Atlantis, on the other hand.

"Yes," Emmagan answered, giving them a thoughtful look.

"You could totally come with us," the man in orange nodded. "Stay a while, let Beckett play some voodoo on you - tell me more about that device of yours," he added, sending a look at Potter who scowled back. The man shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. "A-and hey, you found Ford for us. We should, I don't know, reward them somehow? And-and eventually you could be on your merry way again, right?"

"We should get Aiden back to Atlantis in any case," Emmagan said under Ronon's stare, went to get her radio. "Colonel?"

While she and Sheppard conversed through the radio, Ronon turned to Potter who had his hand still protectively up, ready to make a shield or fire a stunner. "Potter?" he asked.

"Ronon," the slim man answered, frowning, looking a bit uneasy. When Ronon kept eyeing him, he sighed. "He's right about the wound," he finally said, nodding towards Beckett. "And I don't…" he stopped short, looking uncomfortable.

 _I don't_ could mean lot of things, but Ronon was rather sure that in this case it meant _I don't want to deal with you again if you get infected and delirious_. Ronon smiled crookedly at that and then glanced at the people around him. Beckett and the loud man in orange weren't soldiers, but Sheppard and Emmagan were - and that was probably why he rather liked these people. They were different from everyone else he had met since Sateda. There were soldiers, but despite that, there were Beckett and the other guy, not soldiers but still treated with respect. And finally, the Wraith Eater. They wanted to _help_ the man. Soldiers and scientists and they wanted to help a lost cause.

Though it might be that the Wraith Eater wasn't a Wraith Eater at all.

Ronon rubbed his neck in an attempt of alleviating the pain creeping up his spine and then glanced at Potter. Potter was, despite his dislike of people in large groups, curious about these people. And so was Ronon. Soldiers and scientists - and _Atlantis_ \- and on top of that they were from Potter's home world? Of course they were curious. There was no point in denying that. "Right," he said, and stood up. Under the watchful eyes of the people around him, he pushed his weapon back into his holster. "If we're going, we need to go now."

"Before the Wraith arrive," Emmagan nodded.

Next there was a flurry of packing as they gathered Beckett's things, Emmagan darting into the cave to collect the things Ronon had taken from her and Sheppard, and Potter fetching their bags from the cave as well, handing Ronon's to the now former Runner while he shouldered his own shoulder bags with ease. "This might not be a good idea," Potter murmured to him.

"We're not known for them," Ronon threw his words back at him, and grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

Judging by what Ronon managed to see before he and Potter were _kindly_ escorted to the infirmary with an armed guard following them every step of the way, the place was impressive - and pretty much what one could expect from the city of the Ancestors. The amount of people there, however, was a bit of a surprise - especially when they realised that the people there weren't _from_ there. The people on Atlantis, the _normal_ people from Potter's home world, had found Atlantis and made it their base of operations. Or so Sheppard had said before rushing into a meeting with his leaders and the rest of the people Ronon and Potter had met.

"It was about a year ago," Beckett said distractedly while examining Ronon's neck - it was some sort of habit around there to put visitors through health examinations when they came in apparently. While speaking the doctor was looking at the not-Wraith-Eater from the corner of his eyes - Ford his name was - who had been strapped down to a bed nearby with two soldiers standing at each side of him with Wraith stunners in their hands. "The city was at the bottom of the ocean back then - gave us quite the fright it did, when it rose to the surface. Now, open your mouth…."

"You just moved in?" Potter asked from another gurney, where another doctor was examining him. He was in the process of removing his fur shawl and the jacket beneath and when he revealed the heavily scarred upper body, riddled with mementos of several mauling attempts, the doctor looking at him gasped. He gave the doctor a cold look, and then to everyone else after noticing that the doctor wasn't only one looking at him in shock.

Even Beckett was staring at him. "My god, what happened to you?"

"Cats," Potter muttered and Ronon quickly hid a smile from his companion - who immediately shot a glare at him. With a huff of annoyance, the small man turned to Beckett. "Why'd you come to Atlantis?" he asked.

"To explore, originally," the man answered, looking at Potter uneasily before turning back to Ronon and motioning him to take off his jacket as well. "I want to listen to your lungs and heart a bit, is all," the man explained, taking out an odd device and fitting it to his ears. Then he glanced at Potter. "Exploring is what we do back on Earth with the Stargate there. Travel to alien worlds, explore, exchange knowledge, make friends and allies - get into a whole lot of trouble. Of course we have the Wraith here so it's a bit different."

"You don't have the Wraith there?" Ronon asked, frowning and taking a deep breath when the man told him to.

"Well, no. Fortunately or unfortunately, the Wraith are unique to the Pegasus Galaxy. The Milkyway has its own problems, sure, but…" the doctor shrugged, pressing the device to different points in Ronon's back and then on his chest, listening through it. "Sounds perfectly fine and strong to me," the man said after a while. "Alright. Next I need to take a bit of your blood and after we've run you through the scanner, you can be on your way."

Ronon frowned and the doctor hurriedly moved to explain. "I didn't mean run you _through_ it, but that we need to scan you with that device there," he said quickly, motioning at a large machine nearby. "But I'm taking a blood sample first."

"Fine," Ronon muttered and held out his arm.

"So," Potter said while the doctor attending to him listened to his back. "You come from a different galaxy?" he sounded a little confused as he said it - not that Ronon could blame him.

"That we do," Beckett answered, tying a strap around Ronon's bicep before taking out a needle. Ronon said nothing as the man slid the needle into his arm, and started to draw blood. "One might call us a wee bit wacky to do it, but we're too curious to let the opportunity go. When we found out where we might find Atlantis, well… a bunch of us banded together and came to this place. Thought it was a one way trip, back then. As it is, we only got back in contact with Earth about a month or so ago."

"Huh," Potter muttered looking away and apparently loosing himself to his thoughts. Ronon looked at him for a moment before deciding to leave him to it. It wasn't every day you found out that your home planet was in a different galaxy.

"Alright, to the scan next," Beckett said and ushered Ronon towards the machine. "Just lie down on the bed and stay still." He ordered and with a slightly irritated sigh, Ronon did as ordered. Beckett worked on an interface of some sort for a while before the scanning device started moving on it. "Oh boy," the doctor muttered. "You really like your knives, don't you?"

"You can see them with that thing?" Ronon asked a little annoyed.

"Every one of them."

Ronon sighed. Great. He would need to change their places when he got a good chance.

Once he was done, Potter was put through the same process, which relieved Ronon a little - especially with the amount of anxiety his partner directed at the machine. Still he laid down obediently for the scan, and craning his neck Ronon took a look at the interface Beckett was working with.

"You've been through the wringer, haven't you?" Beckett sighed, and Ronon winced a little at the numerous scars and old injuries the device showed. The doctor frowned slightly, tapping something at the machine. "Really. Your scarring is horribly extensive…. Are any of yours scars causing you any trouble?" he asked. "Any aches or twinges or pain - undue tightness or lack of proper mobility?"

Potter frowned and then shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing that would bother me," he then said. Ronon frowned, knowing fully well that it was a lie, but he opted not to say anything. It wasn't his business to interfere if Potter wanted to handle his numerous aches in silence.

"Well then, you can get up now," the doctor said before glancing at the other doctor, the one that had been attending to Potter. "Are you finished?"

"Just about," the other man nodded, handing his hand computer, which he had been using to take notes, to Beckett. "Aside from myopia and the scarring, he seems to be fine."

"Aye," Beckett murmured, glancing over the file, before looking at Ronon and Potter. "Well, it seems we're done here. Sergeant…" he glanced at the two armed guards that had been hovering about, waiting for them to finish.

"If you would come with us," the soldier in question said to Ronon and Potter, stepping forward. "There is a room made ready for you."

"Hn," Ronon answered, and glanced at Potter who pulled his shawl back on.

The slim man threw a last glance at Beckett before they followed the guards out. "Has your… Earth always had the Ring of the Ancestors?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh yes, but the Stargate was lost for a long while. I think it was only about eight years ago they figured how to use it right and started using it regularly for exploration," Beckett answered distractedly, and with a frown Potter fell in step with Ronon as they were escorted away from the infirmary. Potter was quiet the whole way, and Ronon opted not to interrupt him in his thoughts.

"Pegasus," his companion finally murmured when they were in their rather small guest room with the two guards standing at the door. He was pacing the length of the room restlessly while Ronon sat on the edge of one of the two beds, watching him. "I… didn't expect that."

Ronon wanted to ask what was going on in his mind - and what he knew about the Pegasus Galaxy and the, what was it, Milkyway Galaxy, and why it all was so important. But he didn't want to talk about information like that in front of their guard, who were stoically pretending not to be watching or listening to them. "Does it matter?" he eventually asked.

Potter stopped, glancing at him. Then he sighed and fell to sit down beside him. "I don't know," he muttered staring at his hands for a moment - and at the tip of his wand, sticking out just a little bit from beneath the arm guard. The Lanteans hadn't taken their weapons for some reason - they had even left Ronon's blaster with him - but even if they had, it would've made little difference as they weren't aware of Potter's wand and even thought the cause of his abilities was a device of some sort.

"It's just a long way," the smaller man finally sighed and then looked up. "No," he said. "No, it doesn't matter. Not really."

Ronon nodded, satisfied with that. It was a bit hard to worry about whatever problems Potter had with the distance between Atlantis and Earth when he was waiting for news from his _own_ world. He had given the address of Sateda to Sheppard, and the man had said that he would try to make a contact. Any moment now - or any moment after Sheppard's meeting, however long that would take - he'd know… how badly the Wraith had destroyed his home.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hated waiting.

Eventually the wait was put to an end when Sheppard came, motioning the two guards to step outside. The man gave them a mixture of smile and grimace. "How's it going?" he asked.

Ronon glanced at Potter who seemed to be out of his thoughts, finally. "This place is impressive," the former Runner said.

Sheppard grinned more openly now, glancing around the room with what looked almost like personal pride. "Yeah, those Ancestors sure could build 'em," he said.

The Runner nodded and smiled slightly. It was still a bit odd to him to see a high rank military commander like Sheppard - especially one in charge of a base like Atlantis. Most he had known had been uptight and rough - even cruel at times, especially with the common practice of commander-dictatorship back in Sateda. When your rank was high enough, no one questioned your actions and eventually you could do pretty much whatever you wanted - it went to the heads of most Satedan commanders.

Sheppard, though... it might be that their military practice was different, but Sheppard was so oddly... casual about himself and about his surroundings that it was hard not to relax around the man. Not only was the man casual with his own actions, but his command as well. Ronon glanced at the guards hovering about the door and shook his head. They weren't there to keep them prisoner - they wouldn't have been able to hold them, even if Ronon and Potter had been unarmed. But they were still there, and with the whole ordering them guards all the while leaving them armed, Sheppard no made no illusions of being able to force them to do anything -  just that he rather preferred they stayed put, for now. It was subtle and Ronon couldn't help but appreciate that.

"Did you manage to contact my home world?" Ronon asked, letting the matter slide.

Sheppard grimaced slightly. "Well, that's why I'm here," he said, and nodded towards the door. "Come on."

Glancing at each other, Ronon and Potter stood up and followed the man out of the room. The guards followed them, but Ronon ignored them and Potter, taking the cue from him probably, tried to do the same. With a slight tenseness about his shoulders, which more than anything made Ronon brace himself for bad news, Sheppard led them back to the large hall where the gate was, and to the control centre with a lot of interfaces in it.

"Show 'em," Sheppard said to one of the men sitting by the large keyboards, and with a nod the man did something that made a crystal screen nearby flicker. Then an image spread itself over the crystal - an image of ruined buildings against a grey sky. Ronon swallowed. The tallest skeletal structure, half ruined with the entire upper corner missing, looked rather like the Clan Congress Centre. "I... don't understand," he said. He didn't want to.

"We have devices called MALPs. They're capable of transmitting back images and information from other planets," a dark haired woman nearby explained - Sheppard had introduced her as the civilian leader of Atlantis. "We... sent this one to the address you gave us."

"That is Sateda?" Ronon asked, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He didn't want to believe it, but he could recognise the buildings. The CCC building was obvious, and next to it, the Research and Science Institute - Melena had worked there for a while. To the left there was the signature spiral of the Chief Academy of Higher Sciences with the Temple of Fire next to it - he had studied there... seven years ago, he had stood there, in the shadow of the GlobalTransmissionTower, waiting for the first wave from the Wraith....

All in ruins, now.

"Oh no," Potter whispered in realisation at his side, and stepped a little closer to him. Ronon swallowed, biting back a growl or howl or whatever was trying to crawl up his throat. His planet. His home city.... He had known, he had suspected, but... but it looked not just ruined, but _empty_.

"I'm sorry," Sheppard said quietly. "It doesn't look like anyone survived the last attack."

Ronon glanced at him, barely able to hold back the annoyed snarl - he had eyes, he could _see_ they hadn't survived, he didn't need someone to tell it to him. Instead of snapping, though, he swallowed again and turned away, to Potter, who stood at his side steadily, staring up at him, waiting for his reaction. It was only because of the look in his companion's eyes that Ronon realised he was crying.

"Come on," the shorter man said softly, and no one stopped them as Potter led him away from the cruel image, from the people who had shown it, and finally back to the room the Lanteans had given them. There Potter glared at the guards until they took the hint and left them alone, stepping outside the room and closing the door behind them.

"Ronon," Potter said softly, sitting beside him on one of the beds - not too close, not touching, but there, present, watching him. Offering his steady, unbiased support like always. Ronon stared at him for a moment before running his hands over his face, still dirty after the Planet with the Sun, and with a choked gasp allowed himself to grieve for the home he had lost seven years ago.

 

* * *

 

Atlantis was... incredible. When years ago Ronon had first started dreaming of return to civilisation, it had involved a village with maybe some people, a soft a bed, a chance to eat warm food every now and then and maybe to wash himself at least once a week. It hadn't involved a city full of soldiers and scientists floating on an ocean, a bed so clean he couldn't even smell it, food _whenever he felt like eating_ and a chance to wash himself every day - every hour of every day - in warm water without having to work at all for it.

It was unnerving how easy everything was in Atlantis, and how efficient the place was. They didn't even need to walk much - there were transporters and elevators everywhere. They didn't need to wash their clothes anymore - the city had machines to do that - or make their own food - there were people who did that for everyone in the city - and their shower, which worked automatically, was stocked with five different bottles of stuff meant for washing and not one of them was called _soap_.

Not that it wasn't appreciated. Ronon hadn't felt so clean or pampered in years - the showers were gifts from the gods, they had to be - nor had he felt so _full_. Potter, despite his anxiety, seemed to agree, with both the food and the showers. It didn't help his dishevelled state much - his long hair had been messy so long that it was now partially matted - but Ronon with his thick matted locks couldn't exactly point fingers.

"You should cut it," he pointed out when Potter tried to untangle the thick knots in his waist length hair.

"I'd feel naked," the man answered, gave up and with a sigh just tied his hair back.

But as good as the place was; it was also troublesome. It wasn't more than a day after letting them get comfortable that the people of Atlantis started making curious nudges in their direction. First was Sheppard, who whenever he had the time showed them around, displaying the City of the Ancestors to them from all angles like it was a source of personal pride to him - and maybe it was, Ronon mused. Judging by some of the things he had heard in the city, Sheppard had put his life on the line for city often enough for it to be justifiably considered his own. Regardless, the reason for the whole displaying was obvious.

"So, what you think? Pretty nice, hm?" he asked, hinting so blatantly that Ronon got the impression of outrageous winking and elbow nudging without the man doing anything of the sort.

The other was the loud man who had worn the orange suit, McKay, who was the Chief of Science on Atlantis. His attentions though were all aimed at Potter, asking about _the device_ which didn't exist, but which Potter didn't want to admit. He constantly asked to see it, to know how it worked, where he had gotten it, just to take a look at it, because the power source for something like that had to be _just_ this and that - and there had been this personal shield that had ran out of power and maybe if they would just see how Potter's device worked maybe they could fix their shield - and so forth.

Ronon found himself all of sudden playing the part of hiding place for his companion, who took to the habit of carefully shifting just so that Ronon was always between him and McKay. It was rather amusing - all the while being annoying. McKay talked entirely too much.

Then there was Emmagan - Teyla, she asked them to call her, because everyone did. She, Ronon and Potter found, wasn't from Earth but a planet called Athos that had been culled by the Wraith. The Lanteans had taken her people in and ever since she had been living in Atlantis, helping the expedition in understanding and exploring the galaxy. She was... soothing. And entirely too understanding for Ronon's comfort. She calmly explained things they didn't ask and appeased the worries they hadn't even realised they had.

She, without saying much, hinted that she knew that Potter’s ability didn't originate from any devices. "We all have our special talents, and our secrets," she mused, ignoring the tenseness that had taken over Potter. "That we do not share with those we do not know. Perhaps one day."

They weren't the only ones prodding them, or curious. People stared at them - a lot - some whispering behind their palms. Some seemed nervous about them, but generally people seemed curious. Ronon also wasn't blind to the lingering eyes of some of the women in the base, but although once, a long time ago before Wraith and Melena, he might've appreciated it, now it just made him uncomfortable. Potter, who also was looked at with eyes of appreciation, seemed either blissfully unaware or a master of feigned indifference. Probably the former, considering his poor eyesight.

Sheppard wanted them to stay in the city. He was showing the place off like trying to sell it to them, and Ronon had to admit, it was an interesting offer. But... Potter had been right, long ago when he had bluntly pointed out the harsh facts about their existence. It wasn't the sort of place they'd fit in. Ten years of exile had made Potter too much of a loner, and seven years on the run made it hard for Ronon to sit still.

On top of that, they were too rough for the people of Atlantis and their careful manners. Not just with eating - on the run they hadn't much cared for table manners and now-days holding eating utensils felt just weird, a fact which wasn't much appreciated by the people who watched them eat. It was also their strength, and their way of utilising it, that seemed to bother people.

Sheppard, of course as it was his job, started testing them eventually. First was hand to hand combat - the man first suggested that maybe they'd like a chance to keep up their strength, because there was this handy gym where the soldiers and the Athosians trained in hand to hand combat. There Ronon spent rather gratifying half an hour taking his frustrations out on Sheppard's people, while Sheppard and Potter watched from the side.

"Do you want to try?" Sheppard offered to Potter after Ronon had left his opponents on the floor. The soldiers on the floor immediately groaned in objection, telling Sheppard to try it himself.

"Come on," Ronon urged with a ferocious grin, and with a roll of his shoulders, his companion stepped forward, ignoring the marines and facing himself. With a snarl, Ronon attacked, only to have his companion duck and deliver two sharp blows to his midsection. Potter was still smaller than him and would always be physically weaker, but the years had toughened him quite a bit - and he was fast.

The fight was quick and brutal, with Potter delivering two blows and kicks to Ronon's every one. Ronon won the fight eventually because of his stamina and because while Potter hit faster, Ronon hit stronger. It ended with the smaller man on his back on the floor after the last hit which had landed directly to his abdomen. Ronon laughed, a little delighted. They rarely got the chances of sparring honestly and without worry. "You ok?" he asked, offering his hand to his companion.

"If this was a knife fight, you'd be dead already," the smaller man groaned, taking his hand and letting himself be hoisted up.

"Maybe," Ronon allowed with a grin. They both knew he would've won even a knife fight. Even speed didn't save his companion from the fact that he had two left feet and hands when it came to anything that required dexterity.

Sheppard shook his head a little amazedly before touching the headset. "Yeah, go ahead Doc," he said to the radio, pausing for a moment. "I'm with him right now, you want...? Alright. We'll stop by," he lowered his hand and grinned after the marines who, during Ronon's and Potter's fight, had managed to make an escape. "I guess we're done here," the colonel said. "Come on. The doc has a gift for you, Potter."

The gift turned out to be glass lenses in a dark metal frame. "I had Doctor More make these for you," Beckett said while fitting the glasses to Potter's face and adjusting the frames around his ears. "They'll correct your myopia - your poor eyesight. They're not perfect, but they should help you see a little better. The Daedalus can bring you a real pair from Earth - if you stay here long enough."

Potter blinked behind the glasses and looked around. "That's different," he muttered, sounding a little awed. He squinted a little, blinked, stared out of the window for a moment, before turning to look at Ronon. He looked... different with the softly curving glass rectangles covering his eyes, but Ronon hardly cared. If they made his companion see better, they were alright in his books.

"No more running into things," the former Runner smirked.

Potter answered with narrowed eyes and aimed his hand at him and muttered something. The invisible blow knocked the breath out of Ronon and sent him half a foot back, almost making him stumble into a nearby table. When he looked up, Sheppard looked a little wide eyed, Beckett had jumped back as well and there was a self-satisfied look on Potter's face. "Don't need to be next to you to hit you anymore," he said with a feral grin.

An hour later Sheppard took them to a shooting range under the thin excuse of training Ronon and Potter in Earth weaponry. The looks he kept shooting at Potter, though, told the truth. He, like McKay, wanted to figure out _the device_ Potter was using, but didn't want to force them in favour of being friendly. On the range they found out that Potter's aim was atrocious with weapons - he barely hit the targets - but when he aimed a bare hand - and the wand in his arm guard - he hit the bull's eye without any trouble, splitting the target paper vertically in half before changing the direction of his palm and splitting again horizontally.

"Show off," Ronon muttered with a nudge to his companion's shoulder.

"Uhhuh," Potter answered, looking pointedly at the target paper Ronon had left a burning hole in with his energy blaster.

"Huh," Sheppard just said, staring at the ruined targets and shaking his head with a bewildered look about him. Then he glanced at Potter and the wand arm still held towards the targets. "You know, I've been wondering. You didn't want to contact your home world. And I sort of got the impression you know Earth."

"Yeah?" Potter asked, now sounding tense.

Sheppard gave them a thoughtful look, before glancing at the marines who had been watching their session. With a hand motion he sent them away - and with another, he commanded the automatic door to shut behind them. Once they were alone, he unloaded the clip from his gun and placed it on the table - to show that he didn't want to seem hostile. "There's no device, is there?" he finally asked.

Potter didn't answer, only tensed further. Ronon just lifted his eyebrow, both at Sheppard and then at Potter. "You don't seem shocked," he then said when his companion didn't seem to feel like speaking.

"Not the first time for me. The last one wasn't that creative though, tended to use lightning and the whole optimal health and perfection kind of gave her away in the end," Sheppard answered, folding his arms end eying Potter from top to toe. "Probably better that I caught you on this before McKay did - he kind of flipped his lid last time. I don't get it, though. Why would an Ascended live like this?"

Potter blinked while Ronon's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "What?" they asked almost in unison.

"Ascended. I mean, only they can -- oh," Sheppard stopped short, blinking at their looks of astonishment. Then he frowned. "Wait, you're not one of the Ascended?"

"You mean one of the Ancestors? No," Potter said, sounding half indignant and half confused. He glanced helplessly at Ronon who was just as confused about the weird accusation as he was.

"Oh," Sheppard muttered, blinking. "Huh," he added before frowning. "Then how are you doing that?"

"Just do it," Potter answered, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly, carefully lowering his hand before folding his arms. Subconscious attempt to hide the wand, Ronon knew. "I just... do it."

"Wait, wait. If you're _not_ an Ascended, then how do you know about Earth? You knew about our medicine so you don't just know that it exists, too, you know more," Sheppard said, glancing between Potter and Ronon. "How does that work, exactly?"

Potter didn't answer, just gave the man an uneasy look. He glanced at Ronon, who shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't his abilities which were in question here, so it wasn't his decision to make. He did sort of prefer Potter not to tell, though. Judging by what he could understand of Earth, abilities like those Potter had weren't exactly revered - or accepted. The problem was, if they didn't tell....

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "Can you read minds?" he asked.

Potter snorted. "I wish," he laughed and looked away, shaking his head. "Ask me again later. When I know if it's worth it to tell you."

Sheppard hesitated before shrugging his shoulders. "Sounds fair. But just to give you heads up, that thing you can do? It's not going to stay a secret for long. McKay will eventually figure out you have no super-power-giving technology - and then people will start demanding answers," he said while starting to put the weapons away.

 

* * *

 

"They want us to stay here," Ronon said later that night while twisting the roots of his hair in order to help them tighten a little quicker - he hadn't had the chance to do proper maintenance in a while, so the roots were a little loose. He shrugged as Potter, who had been in the middle of repairing one of his shirts, glanced up. "Think we could contribute to their goals," the Runner said.

"Hm," Potter hummed, lowering the shirt and the needle and then sighed. "This place's a bit unnerving."

"Yeah," Ronon snorted. There was no doubt about that. Not only was the place itself a little intimidating, but the people. Ronon wasn't an idiot, but Atlantis was mostly full of _geniuses_. And then there was Potter, and his abilities and all the risks there. The former Runner hesitated before shifting a little where he sat. "What do you think will happen if they... find out?"

The smaller man glanced at the door of their room before sighing. "I... don't know. Earth might've changed while I've been here - it's been ten years already and..." he trailed away. "When I left, the place was on the verge of war - I have no idea how that ended, or if it even did. And they found the _Ring_ while I was gone.  Stuff like that changes things. A lot."

"So, they could do nothing or they could ship you back to Earth?" Ronon asked.

"They could try," Potter sighed and pushed his shirt aside. With a huff, he leaned back to lie down on his bed, hands crossed behind his head. "Makes me wish I did know how to read minds. Would let me know if we can trust these people," he muttered before glancing at Ronon. "What do you think?"

Ronon frowned and eyed his companion for a moment. Then he looked down at his hands. "Ever since Sateda... I've sort of known that the Wraith... that people can't stand up to them. I thought it would be like that, forever, everywhere. That it was just the way things would always be," he said, looking at a window not far from his bed - a window which showed a beautiful view of the city. "I don't feel like that here."

The people in Atlantis were a bit odd. They lived in the city of the Ancestors not like they owned it, or like they were borrowing it - not even like they revered it - but like they _belonged_ there. They treated the city like it was _home_ to them, not just a base. For people who had come from another, more peaceful galaxy, it was a big thing - by doing that they were shouldering a lot of trouble without being forced into it like the rest of the galaxy was. It was an odd thing to do, but at the same time… they were very confident - and very talented. And, of course, they had resources and, from what Ronon could see, they had ingenuity that most of the galaxy lacked. They not only _would_ or _could,_ but they already _were_ standing up to the Wraith - and they were still alive which most people in their position wouldn't have been anymore.

Ronon frowned darkly. Sateda had lasted days. Atlantis still stood after no doubt months. Whilst part of him felt an odd sort of righteous anger at them for that - why did they, foreigners in their galaxy, last so long when Sateda had fallen so badly… still, a larger part of him felt a little awed. And, oddly enough, comforted. Just being in Atlantis had wiped away the constant nagging feeling that the Wraith were unbeatable.

Potter eyed him quietly for a moment before turning to stare at the ceiling. "There's that," he muttered and frowned darkly. Then he turned to look at the taller man. "If you want to stay, I'm staying too," he said, plain and simple.

Ronon blinked and turned to look at him. "Really?" he asked, without adding the _you'd do that for me_ or _even with the risks involved_ unnecessarily into the question. If they stayed, Potter would have to tell the Lanteans who he was and where he came from and how, maybe not in complete detail, but he would have to tell them _something_ and that something could be dangerous. Both of them knew it, though, so it didn't need to be worded.

"Yeah," Potter said and with a sigh sat up again. "I'm taking a shower," he said. "Decide something in the meantime."

Ronon snorted and threw a pillow at him - which Potter snatched from the air and threw back of course - before making himself comfortable on the bed, fingers absently rubbing along the roots of his hair. As the shower started running, he closed his eyes and weighted the two options.

First was to stay in Atlantis, to join Sheppard's people in their exploration and whatever else they did. That would utilise their skills and knowledge - and give them a chance to do something against the Wraith, to pay back in kind for what they had done to them. That was a very appealing thought to Ronon, especially when Atlantis and the people living in it carried the possibility of an end to the Wraith once and for all.

But… but. There was Potter, and his abilities, and the risks there in. There were also Sheppard's people in general. They weren't only foreign to Ronon, but to Potter too despite originating from the same planet. Sure, there was Teyla and the Athosians, but they lived mostly on the mainland and even they were different. Fitting in among any of them… would be difficult.

The second option was simpler and rougher. They'd leave; they'd travel, this time without Wraith on their heels. One day, somewhere, they'd maybe find a place to stay. Ronon knew a few planets with people in them; they could find one of those…. But then what? Get a house? Get a _job_? Put up a store or start farming or trading - or maybe working as a bodyguard for this and that rich guy… the very idea made Ronon grimace. He wouldn't know how to live like that. Not after seven years running. And Potter would fit in even worse than he would to that sort of life.

Maybe if they'd keep on travelling… except that they wouldn't. Not the same way. They no longer had the motivation or need for it, and really… though they were men adjusted to moving a lot, they weren't exactly fond of it. Especially not after being _forced_ to do it for so long without much rest. Moving restlessly from world to world without a home, that… wasn't how Ronon wanted to spend the rest of his life.

All the times he had thought of getting free from the life of a Runner, it had seemed like a simple thing, an easy thing. All he had really wanted was shelter and food. He hadn't really considered anything else - probably because those were the things he had been missing. But now that he thought about it… Potter had been right. He wouldn't fit in some village, a stable life wasn't for him. It was what he had wanted but… in the end, he had only wanted what he couldn't have, at the time.

What he really wanted… Ronon frowned. He didn't really know. Of course, shelter, a place to sleep, food to eat, that all would be nice. But after that? He only wanted a few things, really. Revenge on the Wraith. A little bit of comfort maybe. And of course… to stay together with Potter.

The shower had stopped running, and with a mechanical hiss, the door opened. Potter walked out wearing only his new glasses, dribbling water all over the floor while lazily towelling his messy hair dry without any care for his nudity. "Gotta say one thing," he said without noticing the way Ronon's eyes lingered on the misshapen bite marks around his neck and shoulders. "They make good razors on Earth." He brushed his hand over his cleanly shaven chin. "Could've used one of those on the run."

Lowering his towel, he let his dishevelled black hair fall to his waist, and wrapped the cloth around his hips instead. Oddly enough, the towel made him look even skinnier - brought out the sharp hip bones. "What?" he finally asked, as Ronon said nothing. "Did you decide?"

"Yeah," Ronon nodded, wondering how his partner had managed to survive through six years on the cat-planet without getting a single scar on his face - aside from the old jagged cut on his forehead. He frowned and shook the thought out of his head. It was irrelevant. "Would you want to stay or leave?" he asked.

"Why're you asking me if you made up your mind already?" Potter asked.

"Because I want to know."

The shorter man eyed him for a moment, before sighting and folding his arms. "Stay," he finally said, glancing around the room, at the window, at the floor and the walls, and up at the ceiling. "My abilities and difficulties aside, we could _do_ something here. And… it kind of reminds me of that place. My school. Sort of." He shrugged his shoulders.

"That… Hogwarts place?" Ronon asked thoughtfully, glancing around them. He could see why it would; Atlantis was in a way like an enormous castle. All tall majestic towers and grand halls and such.

"Yeah. Well, of course, I'd never stay here if you left," Potter added. "No point."

"No point?" Ronon repeated, a little confused. What did that mean?

The shorter man blinked at him, and then sighed. "No point in living here without you," he said slowly, like stating the obvious to an infant. "How many times I got to repeat it?"

The former Runner blinked and then raised his eyebrows as the words sunk in - and the meaning behind the simple fact that the man would always go where ever he would go. Potter waited silently for an answer, raising his eyebrows in return with one hand resting on his hip, another holding the towel in place. He was scarred and scrawny, all bony limbs and sharp angles and ugly, ridged skin where the various cuts had pulled it tight. Some might've called him ugly. Grotesque even.

For a moment all Ronon could think was how much he loved the man.

"Well?" Potter asked a little impatiently as the silence stretched.

"What?" the former Runner answered, blinking with surprise before remembering that they had been talking about something. Except he couldn't remember what.

His companion sighed, lifting his hand to wipe a trail of water from his face, almost knocking the new glasses askew in the process. "What did you decide? We staying or leaving?"

Ronon shook his head and pushed the thought to the back of his head, where it wouldn't bother him right now. "We're staying," he said. "At least for now, until we can tell if it's worth it."

"Alright," Potter answered, sitting down on his bed and starting to run his hand through his hair in yet another useless attempt of clearing the matted parts. "I need to figure out how I explain my abilities to Sheppard, then," he muttered, one vicious tug of his hand pulling his head a little with it. He sighed and pulled his hand free. "Maybe you're right. I should to cut this thing," he muttered, tugging his hair so that he could look at it. He looked rather sad about it.

Ronon smiled slightly at the reluctant expression. "If you don't want to cut it, I could make it like mine," he said, motioning at his long thick locks. "You could keep it long that way. Maybe yours wouldn't stick to every direction then."

"Maybe," Potter answered and gave Ronon's hair a thoughtful look. "Actually, yeah. That could work."

Ronon nodded. That settled it then. "Not today, though. It takes a while and I'd like to sleep," he said, stretching his arms. He needed a moment to think, too, he mused to himself, eyes lingering on his companion's scarred chest, wondering how long he had been in love with him and how the hell he hadn't noticed it before.

 

* * *

 

After hearing that Sheppard and McKay were both off world on a mission or something, Ronon and Potter spent most of the next morning in the training room, familiarising themselves with the Lantean practice weapons - wooden mock-weapons which, despite their simplicity, had a perfect balance much to Ronon's approval. It wasn't that they actually needed to do it, just that they were most comfortable in the gym, surrounded by things they knew and understood. The rest of the city and its people were a bit too advanced for their tastes, but here, in the training room, they knew what to do.

They ended up gathering a small crowd of spectators before long - Ronon could see some of them even betting on the outcome as he tried to land a blow on his companion who, swift as always, moved away and retaliated with two sharp blows and a kick. Of course none of the viewers knew that neither of them was trying to win - they were just practicing - but he wasn't going to tell them that. Especially when, in order to ignore the watchers, Potter was working twice as hard as he usually would've.

Their session was eventually interrupted by the woman who apparently lead the city, Weir her name was, wasn't it, Ronon though a little unsurely. When he noticed the way the men in the room instantly moved into a more alert state, some of them almost snapping to attention, he mused that maybe there was nothing _apparent_ about the woman's leadership. Which was a bit odd because he had thought that Sheppard held the position by practice and she was something of a lead figure. That was how it would've been in Sateda - no civilian there had ever had more authority than a military officer.

But then, Earth had very different ways of managing things.

"Ronon, Potter," she called as she stepped into the room. "Might I have a word with you two?"

Ronon glanced at his companion, who flexed his shoulders before they handed their practice weapons to the viewers. Then they stepped closer to the woman to hear what she had to say while their spectators quickly stepped back to give them some privacy. As Ronon and Potter faced her, the woman gave them a look that rather efficiently hid her uneasiness about them. "I understand Colonel Sheppard extended an invitation to you to join the city," she said steadily.

"Yeah, he did," Ronon nodded, glancing at his companion who shrugged his shoulders again - probably trying to ease out some tenseness there. Ronon knew he had a stiff shoulder because of the scars; it caused trouble sometimes when they fought.

"Well, he should've asked me first about it," Weir said frowning.

"And you're not okay with it?" Potter asked, relaxing his shoulders for a moment before lifting his arm and rolling his shoulder again.

"It's not that. I don't doubt that you two have plenty to contribute if or when you join us, and I don't say that I don't trust you," the woman assured diplomatically. "It's just a big decision to make and he shouldn't have made it without my say so." Weir trailed away and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Have you decided yet?"

Ronon glanced at his companion who hesitated, eyeing the woman thoughtfully. As the smaller man glanced at him, Ronon made a motion for him to go ahead. He had made his choice, but Potter still had his problems with these people, ones that needed to be dealt with first. Potter caught his meaning instantly and sighed. "You're the leader of this place?" the shorter man finally asked.

"Yes, I am," the woman said, unconsciously straightening her shoulders a little.

"Then I need to have a word with you about that," Potter said with a little uncomfortable look about him and Ronon relaxed a little. He didn't know why, but for some reason the knowledge that his companion was actually _trying_ to work through his uneasiness about people eased some ball of anxiousness inside him - all the while tightening another.

"Oh?" Weir asked, looking a bit surprised and confused.

"If that's okay," Potter added.

"Ah… sure. Of course," Weir said, glancing around before swallowed. "We can talk in my office."

Potter glanced at Ronon who took a step back, figuring that it might be easier for his companion to reveal his secrets to Weir without an audience. Talk about Earth and magic tended to give him a headache anyhow. "I'll practice some more," he said. "You'll find me here when you're done."

"Okay," Potter said, before following Weir with one armed guard following them closely behind. Ronon spared a final look at them, before turning around and grabbing a practice weapon nearby. He held it up at his spectators, until one of them took the challenge, grabbed a weapon and stepped near.

Fighting, practicing and eventually instructing the marines on how to fight better - because they were embarrassingly easy to take down even when they attacked him in a group - helped him nicely in distracting himself from the still lingering doubts. Potter had said he had no interests in returning Earth but Ronon still couldn't help but worry. Not because Potter might change his mind, not any more. Potter's message had finally gotten through to him and he knew for a fact now that he was stuck with the man - not that he minded. But still. If these people found that Potter was, in a way, one of them… Ronon didn't know them well enough to know how they'd react. Hell, even Potter didn't know that.

And the possibility of forced separation bothered Ronon a little bit more now that he knew that he probably wouldn't know how to live without the man anymore.

As another marine hit the mat with a grunt of pain, Ronon sighed and wondered when had life gotten so complicated.

Potter was gone almost an hour before the armed escort returned him. From the look on his face - shuttered and a little confused - Ronon figured that the talk hadn't gone like he had expected. The practice session ended there and with a firm hand Ronon steered his companion back to their room where he kicked the guards out and closed the door so that they could have a private talk.

"She knows," Potter said without Ronon needing to even ask about it, running his hand through his hair to push it away from his face. "Well, not about me, but she knows about people _like_ me."

"Is that good or bad?" Ronon asked while sitting beside him..

"Good. I think," Potter said, frowning. "She's going to tell Sheppard, McKay and Beckett about me because they're the leaders of their sections - Teyla too, probably - but other than that she has no problem with me, doesn't mind that I stay - prefers it actually, now that she knows I'm from Earth. It's just…" he trailed away, looking away. "She knows a little about what happened in my country after I left. The war, how it… ended."

Ronon eyed him quietly for a moment. Before nudging his shoulder to get him to continue. The shorted man coughed. "He won. The man who killed the boy whose death was pinned on me. Voldemort won," he let out a disbelieving laugh. "He won. Just two years after I was exiled."

The former Runner was quiet for a moment before running his hand over his hair. "Does it matter?" he finally asked.

Potter laughed - it was a choked little sound, almost like a sob. "Ten years of wondering," he muttered and shook his head before looking up with a crooked smile. "No. No it doesn't."

Yes it did, Ronon could see that plain as day. And he could almost tell what was going on the other's head - the same thoughts that had gone through his head while he had been running. Thoughts of friends and acquaintances - and the various ways they could've and probably had died. But he wasn't cruel enough to force his companion to talk about that, so he just threw his arm over the other's shoulder and pulled him a little closer. "Give it time," he said.

"Yeah," Potter murmured, leaning into him gratefully for a moment. "Things were so much easier when it was just us on the run," he muttered, making Ronon chuckle in agreement. Then the smaller sighed and pulled back. "You think you could do my hair now?" he asked, tugging on it. "It's really starting to annoy me."

It was obvious attempt to change the subject, but Ronon said nothing to it. Potter probably needed a moment to think and he didn't really have anything better to do - except maybe to head back to the gym but he had gotten bored with that. It wasn't all that entertaining when the opponents were awful. "I need a comb and some wax," he said.

"I have the second and I can make the first," Potter answered and did just that, turning one of his knives into a metallic comb before getting a jar of wax from one of his bags. After checking that the wax would work the right way and that the comb was strong enough, Ronon pulled the other to sit on the bed before starting to section his hair.

"Have you always had your hair like that?" Potter asked as Ronon tied most of his black hair up and then selected a square shaped patch of hair from the base of his neck.

"Since I was eight," Ronon answered and took the metal comb before steadily starting to comb the hair backwards, towards the roots. "My grandmother did the sectioning and backcombing for me. It was when she was finished training me."

"Hm," Potter murmured, nodding. "Was it some sort of ceremony?"

"Kind of," Ronon smiled at the memory. On Sateda there had been a warrior clan centuries ago with the hair style, a clan that had believed in unity with nature and stuff like that. Even years later their philosophies about how people lost part of themselves if they didn't keep their touch with the nature around them were well known on Sateda. His grandparents had been strong believers of the clan's philosophies - his grandmother had had her hair in matted locks long before Ronon's father had been born. "I guess it was her way of marking me as a man."

He could hear the smile in his companion's voice when he spoke. "Your grandparents taught you how to hunt and fight, right? Does this mean I've finished my training with you?" Potter asked amusedly. "Am I a man, now?"

Ronon snorted. "I don't think you needed my help to become one," he said while reaching for the wax and massaging some of it into the lock he had finished. Then he took another patch of hair and started to repeat the process. "And if we'd go by my grandmother's standards, I should've already kicked you out for being a poor student."

"I'm better at hunting than you are."

"You cheat, and I could kick your ass blindfolded and with both hands tied behind my back," Ronon answered amusedly. He nudged the other's neck with his knuckles. "Relax a little. This'll take a while and you'll get a neck cramp, tensing like that."

"Just not used to have someone touching my hair, is all," Potter answered, shivering a little before shifting where he sat and trying to relax.

Ronon smiled and continued his work in quiet. Despite the suddenness of the whole thing, and the fact that it had nothing to do with philosophies and beliefs, it felt oddly right to work his way through his companion's hair. There was really no one else in the universe he would've done it to, but Potter.

He was half way through the tedious process when a knock sounded through the room, and the door was opened. Sheppard, who apparently was back from his mission, stepped in, pausing for a moment as he saw what they were doing and then coughing a little awkwardly. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not really," Ronon answered while reaching for the wax. "What do you want?"

"Elizabeth said you had a talk," the commander said, taking a careful step forward and looking at what Ronon was doing curiously. "She said you decided to stay."

"Yeah," the former Runner answered, rubbing the salve into the lock and twisting it in his fingers, before moving it aside and taking another strand of hair.

Potter glanced at Sheppard and shrugged. "I talked with her about my abilities," he said. "Did she tell you about that?"

"She mentioned it," Sheppard nodded. "And she doesn't seem to be against you staying, anymore, so that's good," he added, scratching his neck. "There was talk about a meeting about it too, I think, but there was a… incident on the mission and before we get it solved it'll have to wait."

"Right," Potter muttered. "Why're you here then?"

"Well, I was just wondering… since you've decided to stay, have you given any thought about what you might want to do around here? Not that the gym sessions aren't appreciated, a few of my men said they've picked up some new stuff from you, but…" Sheppard rubbed his hands together absently as he searched for words. "Well, it so happens that I could use a new member on my team and I was just thinking…."

"Wasn't that Ford in your team?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard grimaced. "True, but, well… Beckett's trying to figure out how to help him, but his head is a still a bit messed up and, as much as I like the guy, I don't exactly trust him to have my back at the moment. Hell, I don't trust him not to shoot me in the back right now," he muttered with a frown. "Until they can figure out how to get the enzymes out of him safely, he's staying put."

"And so you want one of us to cover for him on your team," Potter murmured, glancing at Ronon over his shoulder. The former Runner answered his worried look with a frown.

"That was the idea," Sheppard nodded.

"We work together," Ronon said, eyeing Potter before turning to look at Sheppard. "We won't be separated." His companion nodded in agreement, leaning a little back and towards him.

The Colonel was quiet for a moment before pushing his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet thoughtfully. "So, you're a package deal, is it?" he murmured before smiling. "I can work with that."

"Good," Ronon nodded and leaned back a little as he came to a particularly matted part of Potter's hair. "I need to cut this," he said, lifting the knot and tugging it. "It's too big. I won't cut it _off_ though - if I cut it vertically, it'll make a few locks."

"Do it," Potter answered and Ronon pulled out one of his sharpest knives.

"Anything we should know about this team thing?" Ronon asked while starting to saw into the lump of hair.

"Not much I don't think you won't figure out on your own, but we can go over it before we have our first mission - before that though we need to clear the mess Rodney got himself in during the last one," Sheppard answered and then added, almost as if an afterthought. "And have the meeting with Elizabeth."

"Fine."

"Well, good then," Sheppard nodded, eyeing his work curiously before coughing and stepping back. "Well, I'll leave you two to... do this hair thing." With another step back and an awkward nod, the Colonel turned around and then headed to the door, closing it in his wake.

"That was interesting," Potter muttered with a smile in his voice.

"He seems like interesting commander to have," Ronon agreed and after cutting the matted lump apart, he reached for the comb to hone the locks. Aside from the knotted parts, the rest of the locks were coming out pretty nicely - even once they would tighten properly, they'd be almost twice as long as his were. But then again, he shortened his own every now and then.

"I wouldn't know," Potter answered and then glanced at him with a frown. "Do you think my lack of military training will cause problems?"

"It shouldn't. I can explain everything you don't know in any case," Ronon answered. "And if the protocols of Satedan and Earth military are too different, then I'm in as much of trouble as you are."

"Comforting," Potter chuckled, shaking his head. "Tell me about it, about Sateda's military."

Ronon did, all the while continuing to work on his companion's hair. He explained the history and tradition and the role Military training had served in the lives of everyone on Sateda. Then he explained the training and how it began and how the promotion ladder worked along with the ranks. "I was a Specialist. It's not exactly a high rank to have, but it wasn't too common either," he said while carefully rubbing wax into the last lock of Potter's hair. "Only the more skilled ones got promoted to a Specialist, but... if I'd come from nobler birth, I would've been promoted to a Squadron Leader instead of Specialist."

"Nobler birth?" Potter asked, frowning.

"Yeah. Commoners like me were never given command, not even to lead small squads," Ronon answered. "During the war, though, I got the command of a group of Specialists like me, but I was still never promoted past the Specialist rank."

"That seems unfair," his companion murmured, rubbing his neck absently.

"That was the Satedan way," Ronon shrugged before starting to go through the locks he had made to make sure they were all as good as they could be at this point. Then he let them all fall to Potter's shoulders, where they ran down, reaching his elbows. "I'm done."

"And I have a neck ache," his companion answered, lifting his both hand to his shoulders. It was no wonder though, he had been keeping his head still for hours now.

Ronon chuckled. "Let me," he said, tugging on the collar of his companion's shirt. "Take this off," he added before reaching for Potter's bag to get some of his miracle salve. Once his companion had obediently removed his shirt, Ronon tied Potter's newly arranged hair into a messy knot on the top of his head to get it out of the way. Then he took some of the salve, and started to massage it across the other's scar-roughened shoulders.

"Mm, that feels better," his partner murmured relieved, letting his head fall forward as Ronon dug his thumbs into the other's tightened muscles. "You're wasting my salve, though."

"You can make more of it," Ronon answered calmly, running his thumb forcefully along the edges of one of the bite marks. He had expected them to feel rough and dry under his fingers, like freshly scarred wounds would've, but they weren't hard at all. Some wider scars even felt oddly smooth, almost silky. "Besides, with the infirmary they have here, I doubt we will need it as much anymore."

"That's going to be so weird," Potter mumbled, leaning his hands to his knees and sighing again in relief.

Ronon swallowed, trying to ignore the reaction the sound caused in him, and concentrated on the other's back instead, and loosening the tense muscles. The combination of the massage and the salve did the work quickly enough and, just because he could, Ronon allowed his hands to continue a little downwards, along the other's spine and then up the long muscles at each side of it. Potter sighed again, back arching a little under Ronon's fingers. The former Runner swallowed again, and quickly brought his eyes up, to the other's neck, only to realise that this was actually the first time he had seen his companion's bare neck.

It felt bony and soft under his lips.

"Ronon?" Potter asked softly, now shivering a little under his touch.

The taller man hesitated, not sure what to do - to pull back and apologise came to mind, but something held him back. The feel of the other's shiver and the fact that Potter made no move to pull back himself. So, instead of withdrawing Ronon cautiously brushed his fingers past the other's sides until he could wrap his arms around his companion's waist. "Is this okay?" he asked after a moment of anxious, excited silence, and kissed the other's neck again.

Potter shivered and turned in his arms, to look at him over his shoulders. "Yeah," he breathed before pulling his glasses off and hurriedly reaching for Ronon. The taller man met him eagerly and as their lips collided awkwardly - too quickly - he felt like he had finally, after seven years and dozens worlds, come home.

Potter tasted and smelled like a sanctuary - like dust and wind and running and the precious healing salve, caves and fields and leather tents. And as the smaller man turned completely, arms winding around Ronon's neck as their lips meshed clumsily, he felt like it too - awkward and sharp and too small and strong and somehow precious beyond words. And so very right.

The kiss, though, was awful, and left them both laughing softly at the end, fingers entwined in each other's hair, cheeks pressed together. "That was horrible," Potter murmured while licking his lower lip - which, by the look of a red bruise, Ronon had bitten accidentally. Still, the smaller man was smiling as he moved to sit comfortably in Ronon's lap, straddling his hips casually like it was a well-practiced move, so it was probably alright.

"Sorry," Ronon murmured, breathing in the other - soap and sweat and salve and herbs.... Humming with enjoyment, he slid his hands down from the other's hair to his shoulders and then down to his mid back. Scarred and too thin and too sharp - and still the man felt perfect in his arms. "It's been a while."

"At least you have some experience," Potter murmured, hands running along Ronon's hair. "That was my first kiss."

"...Oh," Ronon murmured, frowning. Maybe he should've put more effort into it.

"I was fourteen when I was exiled," Potter shrugged as a way of explanation, not embarrassed in the least. Then he pulled back, to look at the taller man into eyes. He looked a little strange with the new hair style, but it was definitely a look Ronon could get used to. Especially with the angle. "This... is the real thing, right?" the smaller man asked unsurely, glancing around them like trying to wrap it all into single sentence - them, the kiss, the room, Atlantis, everything.

Ronon smiled, leaning to press his lips against the other's in a brief, gentler kiss. He felt odd. Like running and standing and jumping - and sitting still and never moving. Weird. "Yeah," he said, tone low and satisfied despite the odd, new, _beautiful_ excitement burning in his belly. He considered saying something more - that he loved the man, that he couldn't live without him - but in the end it seemed unnecessary. "This is real," he just said.

It was enough. Potter sighed, relaxing in the circle of his arms and pressing closer to him, rather easy and comfortable for someone who usually wasn't really into touching. "Yeah," he whispered with a content smile and in a move Ronon would remember for decades, he removed his boots as they finally, _finally_ stopped running.


End file.
